Spider-42
by Marisandini
Summary: It's canon that the kid Iron Man saved during the Stark Expo is little Peter Parker. But what if he saved a grown Peter Parker that day? Complete with mask and his vigilante glory. The MCU will be a whole lot different, that's for sure. T rating because Peter Parker Swears
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: PLEASE READ THIS! This story may not be your cup of tea and while I want you guys to give it a chance. It's only fair that I give you warnings since the summary has too little character limit. **

**First, this is a Gwen/Peter fic. I love Emma Stone. I love their relationship on screen. I wish TASM could have done better because there are so many badass moments and characters but wasted because of sloppy plotline and corporate deals. **

**Harry Osborn and Mary Jane here. And so will Ned Leeds and Michele Jones. I have special plans for each of them but unfortunately, it's down the lines and I'm trying to put this story as short and sweet as possible.**

**Will there be Irondad? Yes. Does Ben Parker still become relevant in Peter's development character? Absolutely. Will the building relationship between the two be long and tedious and won't get right to the fun stuff immediately like the rest of your fics? Err... yeah...**

**Lastly, in this fic we respect all three spider-men and what they represent to bring us the Peter Parker and Spider-Man we know and love today in the big screen**

**Anyway, now that's out of the way so I'll just have fun with this fic and hope you guys have fun as well **

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Let's take it from the top.

Are you guys ready?

Here goes.

You already know who I am.

Okay, maybe you_ generally_ know who I am. But you don't know this _me, _specifically. Considering all those multiverses, I applaud you for not losing track of all the _me _s. But for story-sake, let's put things simply and call this universe Earth-42.

Why 42? You might ask.

Because I've read once that the number represents chance, fate, and randomness. In other words, the small but incredibly significant events in life that gave us alternate universes. Of life that could have been and chances never taken.

Or I could just be a fan of Douglas Adam, either is valid.

So let's start our intro; my name is Peter Parker.

I was born, raised, and still living in Queens. Parents? Yeah, no. Still an orphan. I only have vague memories of the first six years with them, but my brain decided it's perfectly fine to remember the last time I saw them in perfect detail. It had been just like any other day, my dad and I were playing hide and seek in the backyard. I was living the life of a 6-year-old. With all the joy and none of the hardship. I was none the wiser that that day would be any different; that it would be the last time I saw my parents.

I was particularly mischief that day, and decided to hide in my father's study, knowing he was strick on letting me inside and touching his stuff without him. I thought it'd be the last place he would try to search for me. I knew I was going to get in trouble by the end of the day, and you might be wondering why I did it. The same reason why any children do anything? Because they're little asses, that's why. Me not excluded. Even though I knew I'd get grounded and would most probably have no TV for the rest of the day, and end up crying until dinner. I'd still do it for no other reason than I can. But when I opened the door and found the room ransacked, I became confused. It didn't occur to me then that someone broke into our house. All I knew was that my Dad is the most pristine people I knew (him being a scientist and all) and he would never let it drag into this state. So I called out to my dad, and I witnessed him rendered speechless.

He called out to my mom, and after one look at the scene, they made eye contact and stuck in a wordless conversation. Next thing I knew, they searched out the surviving documents in the office, even from hidden ones, wipe out any records before they start packing our bags next.

It was a predicament and I didn't know what was happening. I just followed their example.

By the end of the day, I was at my aunt and uncle's house. They sent me upstairs to unpack my stuff but I was a curious little shit. I knew something was wrong so I lurk upstairs and tried to hear as much of the conversation as I could. A lot of good that did, Dad didn't say anything much other than they might "go into hiding" and to "take care of Peter" while they're at it. I didn't know what's so bad about going away that Aunt May had to cry for them.

They called me downstairs before they leave, and both of them gave me a hug of a lifetime. "Stay with Aunt May and Uncle Ben for a little while."

Somehow, I knew his 'little while' wasn't the same for mine, "I want to go with you."

He didn't answer, just kissed my forehead in return like it was the last thing he'll do to me. Mom couldn't hide her tears as Dad dragged her away to the door.

Dad's last words for me is "Be good."

Funny how that's what I'll always be trying to do, Pops.

It was still hard for me to understand why they were so gloomy about leaving. As far as I was concern, this was just some kind of advance hide-and-seek. Mom and Dad were disappearing, and if I can't be with them then I would need a longer time to search for him on the other side of the world. It was only when their airplane crashed made it into the news did it finally dawned; they were never coming back.

The funeral was short and no bodies were buried. I didn't cry back then because some childish, naive part of me believed that one day I would go downstairs and would find them waiting for me by the door, bringing me home.

Right, enough for the sad childhood backstory. Let's get into my second pair of parents. Benjamin and May Parker. The sweetest and kindest people you'll ever meet. I wish I was just glorifying them, but that's no joke, it's a fact of life. One time, I had a call at 6 am in the morning from my Aunt, asking me how to catch a squirrel. Apparently, she found one having a pull-tab can stuck on its leg, it couldn't walk or climb very well and she's been chasing it for TWO HOURS just so the little creature can get help. I tried calling Animal Control, but squirrels are out of their jurisdiction so I went to find my aunt and lured the squirrel with a few nuts under my sleeve.

I wished that was the strangest story, but no, that's my everyday life even before the Spider Bite.

If you think Aunt May is an angel, you're right, but she's no pushover. Because let me tell you, anyone who messes her and her family, she'd give the same type of hard ass as divine punishment. One time, she brought out a fully inflated tire for laying their hands on me. And let me tell you those things are a lot heavier than they look.

Compared to May, Uncle Ben is tame. Heck, I'm pretty sure Ben is half her impulse control. But I wouldn't lie that he has been my role model. He'd be the Wise Old Man that every hero has and teaches you about life. He's the best uncle to ever dad.

My dad used to tell me he worked as a military officer before retiring, telling me stories of how Uncle Ben has always been a hero since he never made fun of his "nerdy" projects even as the other kids make fun of him. "There were times I thought of giving up science just so the bullying stop," he would say, "But Ben would always encourage my work and let me lecture him for hours despite barely knowing anything that I'm saying."

To Dad's eyes, Uncle Ben was probably a hero.

I can understand how he could be patient with me when I'm in one of my rambles, he already has experience.

The only thing I found lacking was the zero dad jokes he made. Imagine a childhood without a single "Hey, Hungry, I'm Uncle." I felt rob, I tell you, _rob! _

Anyway, you can probably imagine what kind of childhood I had. It may not be perfect, but I never felt less than loved. My parents may be gone but I never felt abandoned, not with them with me.

But of **course** in the life of Peter Parker, nothing good stays with me.

And it all started early in my sophomore year when it happened; the spider bite.

My best friend, Harry Osborn, put it in a good word to his dad and managed to snag a field trip for our class to visit one of the most top-notch laboratories in the Genetic Research Institute. I mean, they have the most advanced electron microscope in the eastern seaboard! How could anyone not be excited? It's unreal. Despite being part of Midtown School of _Science _, not a lot of people in my class can appreciate the inner-working of the world. I was pretty sure Harry did it for me though because I was over the moon when I heard about the trip.

Harry is that sort of kid; the kind who would use his money and connection just to be well-liked. Most of the kids in Midtown love him for it. It would have been great if life was cheesy enough that you don't need money to have a content life with true friendship. Well, those people don't know High School. They either like you or don't care enough and make your life a living hell. I should know, I'm living in mine as the personal punching bag of quarterback star, Flash Thompson. The people aren't going to side someone like Nerdy Parker, the teacher's pet. Harry might have been given the same treatment if he didn't do what he did; it wasn't a matter of friendship, it was for survival.

Good God, I talk like I'm giving an instructional survival video. I'm pretty sure there's already a 90s show for that.

Anyway, that's briefly what my high school is like. It's not the best, but it could be worse. I had the luck of getting on swell with Harry after weeks of awkwardness with each other. He wasn't what I had expected him for being the heir of billions of dollars worth Company. I admit I had been convinced those types of rich kids would be snobbish and arrogant, but Harry is far more uncomfortable with the attention despite the one seeking it.

One time, when I had to write an essay on the _Great Gatsby_, at some point I mixed up the word Gatsby for Harry. In a way, they were similar in how they hide in their pile of wealth and how awkward they are in dealing with friendship that doesn't involve being bought for. I mentioned to Mary-Jane, my childhood friend and next-door neighbor, how I was the Nick to his Gatsby. And she laughed at my comparison while pointing out Nick was a bit gay for Gatsby, and I was like "What? No. I would notice if he was gay."

Which he wasn't!

I may have denied her a bit too strongly because she's been low-key shipping me with Harry ever since.

Be as it may, even if Nick was gay that doesn't mean I am one, right?

_Right? _

Putting my sexuality aside, there's a reason I know I don't have a crush on one of the only two people that makes high school bearable.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, spider bite.

So, a spider got lost. It bit me. Huge fever then _voila_; a man with spider-power.

The end.

What? What else am I supposed to tell you? You should know about the spider bite story by now, otherwise, you wouldn't have come reading this.

But if you must know the details. Here's how it happened; the class was guided by one of the leading scientists of genealogy and neogenic, Dr. Connors (and no, Harry, I did not squeal). He looked just like how the _Science _magazine portrayed him; pleasant demeanor, a white lab coat on, sandy blond hair, no right arm, and would smiled engagingly to the audience.

"Cross-species genetics is the newest appliances of neogenic where we take one genetic trait of one species and integrate them into another. If done right, we could do imaginable things; curing any genetic diseases like Down Syndrome or Parkinson disease. If you want a more fantastical example we might one day make gills so we could breathe underwater without aid, creating a unicorn..." The class laughed at his joke, and here, he chuckled as he looked down at his absent arm, "... or using a lizard's regenerative gene to grow another arm. Recently, there has been a breakthrough in the genealogy community thanks to the introduction of the CRISPR-Cas system, can anybody tell me what that is?"

Two hands shot out from the crowds, my eyes wander and caught the sparkling blue eyes of Gwen Stacy. There was something about her that every time I see her face, my lips would twitch up, my eyes focused on her like with a wide aperture lens as the world turns into a blur, and background noises become static noises instead as the orchestra singing from the heavens.

"...ter...Pete..._ Peter! _" I came back down to Earth after a hard pinch from my freckled friend. Dr. Connors was looking at me expectantly and there were quite a few giggling heard from behind me. I realized I had been staring off for a while, probably like a lovestruck idiot that I am, and blushed from making a fool of myself.

"Would you like to answer the question?" He prompted.

"Err, okay, so, so CRISPR is a DNA sequence within the genome used to archive the DNA sequences of bacteriophage so the body will know how to fight back if it gets attack by the same virus by cutting away the bad DNA using the enzyme called Cas9. CRISPR-Cas is essentially using that same enzyme but is programmed as a cut-and-copy machine to cut and add any DNA sequences we want to us like say… animal DNA, am I right?"

Dr. Connor's eyes shone admiringly, and I couldn't help the pride that gushed inside my chest. "Top notch answer, Mr…"

"Parker, Peter Parker."

That's when the weirdest… okay, not the weirdest, but the peculiar thing happened. His grin fell, and his eyes widen slightly. Not many noticed, but being an overachiever, I was at the front of the class so I got a full view of the Doctor. It took him a full three seconds to gain his bearing and continue his tour like nothing happened.

Harry elbowed me on the side. I turned, he glanced at Gwen and mockingly mouthed the word, "Smooth."

Feeling embarrassed, I elbowed him back, "Shut up."

The tour went on until we reach the collections of spiders of different species. Some of the girls and guys decided to stand back from the creepy-crawlies skittering in their cage. Dr. Connors boasted how they have the largest and diverse collection of spiders and using their gene, are trying to create what they dub "Super Spider." As part of the school paper, it was my job to take pictures but I must have irritated Flash during the trip because he and his cronies wouldn't stop pushing me from behind. Seeing as this wasn't the worst he'd done, it was easier to ignore him.

"Knock it off, Flash!" Harry tiredly chastised, already familiar with the same old song.

Flash predictably snorted, "Whatcha gonna do about it, Osborn? Cry home to your daddy and fire my dad? Hah, I wish."

"Excuse me, gentlemen!" Dr. Connors spoke up sternly, "Is there something you'd like to say to the rest of the class?"

"No, Sir."

He nodded but didn't break eye contact with us, "Alright then, as I was saying. These three engineered Super Spider has been the most successful. There's _Theriididae-15 _, a radiation-based gene engineering. It didn't do much other than weird coloring and longer life while the other spiders died. It's a hit or miss with these things. We've been using this little fella's genome for all the other basis of gene-editing of the other spiders.

"Next there's _Lychosidae-67 _. We basically tried mashing up all the other genes into this one tiny guy. There are other successful specimens but their life-expectancy got shorten. Moving on, the last is–oh."

"What's wrong, Doctor Connors?" Gwen asked.

"It's gone… probably somebody moved it for an experiment, but I didn't hear it was going to be tested today."

"What was the Spider?"

"Oh, you kids would love this. See, we've been experimenting spider to carry not only other types of spider-genes but other genetic sequences from other animals. Unfortunately, though some undergo significant changes, their based genome is too far apart, making each and every spider become sterile."

The class laughed until Dr. Connors held up his finger to shush them. "All of them, but one; _Salticidae-42, _which we inserted the human gene inside him."

"Wait," Harry voiced out, glee lacing his tone, "Are you saying the human gene was the only thing that kept it horny?"

Connors lips twitched up, "If you like."

And the whole class burst out into laughter again. I mean, technically you can still have libido but Harry makes it a funny point.

We spend some time examining and taking notes of the spiders on all sides. I was too busy gawking over something a lot more interesting though; something… or someone more blonde and prettier, who is intently examining them.

Harry had been insistent I started talking to her, but it was easier said than done. She probably doesn't think I exist in the same plane of existence as her. My best friend rolled his eyes and pushed me hard enough that I might have knocked down a million-dollar worth of specimen.

"Wow, there, don't get too excited."

I turned and was greeted by the smiling sight of her, and oh _God, Kami, Budha, Jesus, what do I say_?

"My friend, MJ, thinks they're disgusting," I blurted out, then just as quickly shut my mouth.

"Excuse me?"

From the corner of my eyes, I could tell Harry was slapping his face. And frankly? Mood. Not only did I mess up my opening, but I also had to bring out another girl's name. Unless, MJ is a neutral-gendered name, in which case, I still messed up.

"But she loves it! And, and I don't get that, y'know? Like why does she loves something disgusting? Is, is that a girl thing or…?"

"What, so you think only boys can get down and dirty and love it?"

"Err, no? No! What I meant to say was…"

Harry was already swishing his hand back and forth around his neck and mouthing the word "Abort, abort!"

But then a chuckling sound cut the tension, "Relax, I was just messing with you."

"Oh, OH!"

"To answer your question; I wouldn't know since that's your friend's preference. But for me, there's just something fascinating how animals act so unlike humans. Don't you think so, Peter?"

I breathed a huge sigh of relief and not being a complete fool in front of her before it hit me.

"You know my name?"

"Of course I do, Peter Parker, right? Or don't you know your own name?" She smiled teasingly, and my heart soared at the fact _Gwen Stacy is teasing me._

"No, of course I know my own name. I just didn't think you know my name not like how I know your name. But of course you know my name, you're brilliant."

There was a call for the group to move onto the next department, and Gwen looked up at me, apologetically said, "I better go to my group, see ya."

"See ya... Gwen," but she was already gone for her to hear me, but it didn't stop me smiling wistfully at her back. I didn't even notice Harry sidling next to me, too busy enraptured by the fantasy of us holding hands, going to the dance, kissing by the moonlight, propose to her at dinner, and then making my speech at our wedding of how my entire life started to change because of a spider.

The latter became less of a fantasy than I imagined it.

"Nice job, Slick. Remind me the next time I pick up girls to embarrass myself first."

"You don't need to, your hair is already an embarrassment."

"Oi, lay off the perm, man. It's innocent!"

Later on, I split away from my group to go to the bathroom, and this is when things got interesting for me.

As soon as I was done with my business, my Parker Luck driving me lost in one of the most high-tech security buildings. In a Sunday morning cartoon show, this is the part where the character would go snooping around and causing trouble unintentionally. Maybe even get dragged out by security for some misunderstanding. But I told myself; I'm not going to be that character, not this time. So I stayed clear anything that screams "Official" or "Off-limits."

Trouble came to me, nonetheless, when I had slammed against a woman after turning a corner. What's worse, she was carrying a lot of papers and a box of stuff and I had gone and scattered them on the ground.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, Miss." She didn't say anything, she crouched and was hastily putting everything back in prim and proper order with scary precision. The lady looked like she was in a hurry despite the calm mask she had. I crouched and helped her along, grabbing a loose petri dish before tightening it for her.

"Don't!" She snatched it and put it—not back on the box—within the inside pocket of her beige blazer.

I was afraid of touching anything else that might trigger her, so I just stayed. Waiting for the likelihood of her needing help, which by the looks of things, she doesn't.

Once done, she up and left, leaving Peter dumbfounded on the ground. But then he noticed the fallen ID card and quickly tried to catch up to her.

"Hey, Miss, Lady, Miss Roymand!"

The woman stopped short then turned sharply back at me. "Oh good, you drop this. I didn't think you wanted to lose something this important." In my hand was an Oscorp Employee ID card with her face, a barcode below, and the name "NATALYA CHARLOTTE ROYMAND" written on it.

She took it quite more gently than I expected, seeing as she had been in a hurry and all, I thought she would snatch it from me.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice sweet yet direct.

"Your welcome, err, so, you don't happen to know where I can go back to my group from my school, would you?"

"I'm surprised you're here at all considering you're in the restriction section."

"Dammit, I was avoiding those!"

The darkly red-haired woman must have taken pity. She showed me the quickest path back to my school field trip group but didn't stay to lead me there. Nonetheless, I shrugged our meeting off my mind and skip back to my class. Unknown of the spider piggy-backing my neck until it bit me by the end of the tour.

Most of you would think that's how my hero persona is born, which is a big fat _no._

This is my power origin story.

My hero origin story on the other hand…

...is a different chapter.

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**Disclaimer and acknowledgment: The squirrel scene is based on a true story from TikTok by Lama_Mama Please check her out because not only is she hilarious but she's an awesome person too. Her mother is an angel and became an inspiration for my Aunt May. And the '42' comment was from an interview I read, can't remember from which site.**

**MiniDP: Now you're just trying too hard.**

**Me: In what respect? Gwen and Peter bonding? Or 'Natalya' sloppy work? Do you think I don't know that? I'm trying my best here!**

**MiniDP: Charlotte? Really? You have to put it there?**

**Me: Come on! Charlotte! As in the Mama Spider! It's poetic. She basically gives birth to another spider in the scene!**

**MiniDP: And you said 'The End' but went on with the Spider Bite Explanation anyway just to show Peter poorly executed flirting and Osborn basically a cheerleader?**

**Me: I... I... I...**

**MiniDP: Oh, Honey... are you sure you want to post this?**

**Me: *Cries while mouse hovers the post button* shut up!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: ****You know, MJ has never been my favorite character in Raimi's movie nor was she impactful for me to love her as I did for Gwen in TASM. But then I watched Peter/MJ moments from Spider-Man PS4 and I thought their relationship was beautiful, especially the way Peter was so open for her. I got to say it was way better than how the movie portrayed their relationship and MJ was even more of a badass. This is why I wanted to depict their relationship in a way that's familial or platonic but still convey how much they would die for each other and would always have the other's back.**

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**Chapter 2**

Agent Natasha Romanoff always succeeds in her mission. Always.

She might go beyond what's needed for the mission parameter, solved it in an unorthodox way, or changed the mission's objective.

But overall, not once has she failed a mission since her integration to SHIELD, and she planned to keep it that way.

She arrived at the Triskelion, still in her disguise of a simple office lady. Her handler, Agent Coulson, greeted her with his usual bland smile and gentle demeanor in his office. Natasha had always admired him for making himself seamlessly harmless as any white-collared male when he's one of the deadliest men she knows.

He nodded in greeting, "Agent Romanoff."

"Agent Coulson."

"Good to have you back with us."

"I admit it wasn't easy. I had to leave before my cover was blown. Oscorp Industries security measures are tight, way too tight for them to be conducting normal research."

"Is that not common? Considering they have ties with the government. Security measurement should be tight."

"That's what I thought too. But if that was all there was to it, you'd never sent me down there. This smells like a deeper conspiracy."

Coulson nodded, not at all surprised to have his suspicion confirmed. "Multiple reports of deaths, disappearances, or just plain scandals had been linked to Oscorp. Each with a different background as high as a leading scientist to a lowly janitor or office woman. Perhaps not all of them have links to Oscorp, most of the deaths already have a culprit being locked away, and the evidence to them is circumstantial at best."

"But it's enough for Shield to keep an eye on them."

"Twice's a coincidence, thrice's a pattern, fourth...sixth...and fifteenth smells like crap that hasn't been flushed all the way from Denmark."

"What do you think it is that they're hiding?"

"Agent, you know I don't 'guess' on these things."

"I know, but nothing wrong in presuming the worst-case scenario."

"Not… exactly worst, but big enough to sow chaos in the country." Coulson's eyes locked at the platted vintage card of Captain America with the signed autograph by Peggy Carter.

Yes, that man has no shame in his fanboying.

Agent Romanoff waited, but seeing no answer from him anytime soon, she then relented, "I've got the specimen you asked for. While I never ask questions, this is certainly out of the left-field of Shield's usual assignment. They usually stole weaponry or information, not… bugs."

"Arachnid, Natasha," he said amusingly, "I'm not surprised you feel that way, but Project Spider has been an interest of Shield ever since they had Dr. Curtis Connor leading it."

"He is the forefront expert of genealogy and neogenic, I don't see why he's not perfect for the job."

"But he's familiarity has always been with the research of lizards and other reptiles with regenerative genes. Yet Oscorp kept insisting him in researching spiders, specifically the ones left by their late scientist who died from a plane crash nine years ago."

"And you come to the conclusion that the answer is highly likely in the spider? Well, I suppose I'll leave this out of my hand-" Natasha froze. The petri dish just an inch away from her handler's hand. Coulson looked up in concern, as he had never seen his operative be rendered speechless.

"Agent Romanoff, is something wrong?"

She didn't answer, just kept her cool mask while her eyes bore to object at hand and Coulson followed her gaze… to the empty petri dish.

"Natasha, where's the spider?"

She didn't answer. While one unfamiliar with her might say that she doesn't feel anything, but Coulson knew enough that he was surprised, to say the least, to find Agent Romanoff looking so off-kilter.

Coulson's tone dropped a bit further as it dawned on him, "Natasha?"

For the first time in a very, very, very, very, _veeeeeeeeeeeeeeery _long time, Agent Natasha Romanoff finally opened her mouth-

"_ Дерьмо́ _."

-and cursed.

. . .

"Natasha Romanoff failed her mission," said literally nobody. No one. Ever.

.

.

.

.

.

Until now, that is.

**. . . **

The rest of the story isn't my proudest nor my best moments. I may like to blabber a lot like last time, but I hope you guys don't mind if I kept the gritty details short. And it's one of those overuse origin story you must already be used to reading all the time, so if you want to skip this part, now's the time to abandon ship.

Still with me?

Good.

So, once I was bitten by the spider, it wasn't long 'till I was feeling uncomfortable. Luckily, I've already reached home by then, but one look at me and my aunt and uncle had practically shoved me to bed. There was a thing where I was bedridden for three days without waking up, and everyone practically panicked while I was figuratively in hell. Not a good day for any of us.

Though I admit the long hugs and hard-pressed kisses made me feel all warm and fuzzy, but don't tell anyone else that.

But the day proved to be the beginning of a much weirder life in store. The first sign had been the good feeling I had like you wake up feeling bright, refresh, and really productive like you can jog around the neighborhood, doing squats, push-ups, and actually mean it? Yeah, I hadn't had those in years, so the first thing I asked myself was: "Am I high?"

I brushed it off as the after-effect of sleeping too long, but then I showered and got change… only to find myself having abs. Maybe not those model abs (which I'm sure are photoshopped because they are way too chiseled and perfect to be real), but no doubt I have a six-pack I was positive I hadn't had before, and I couldn't chuck it off as an after-effect because I'm pretty sleeping doesn't give you abs. Otherwise everybody will happily do it.

And if that wasn't weird enough, my glasses turned useless all of a sudden.

Or my eyesight got fixed.

Either way, the point still made.

I began to panic because I have no idea what to do. I had half a mind to chug everything away in a box labeled as 'Puberty' and get on with life. But I am, at heart, a scientist, and I know for a fact that none of what's happening is normal. I should run some tests, or maybe a hospital would be better? I'm pretty sure symptoms that involve growing abs and fixing my blind-as-a-bat eyes. Though would they take me seriously? I know if some kid tells me that, I would think they were joking. Maybe I should run the test myself after all, but I don't have the tools. And…

I was stuck in the cycle of my own thoughts for the last eight minutes and was in the middle of considering breaking into school labs when my window was dragged open, and I screamed a manly-scream and hide behind my shirt.

"What the hell, MJ? I'm changing!"

But the girl surprised me as she stared wide-eyed before she rushed forward and hugged me uncomfortably tight. "Oh God, you scream like a girl." Mary-Jane tried laughing, but it failed to hide the wet tears on my skin.

All my worries were thrown out at the sight of my distressed childhood friend in my arms. An unusual sight considering how MJ hates looking vulnerable. It's a whole thing with her tied with her family issue; alcoholic dad, a mother who stays with the dad, and an estranged sister. So I'm walking on uncharted territory here.

Before I could say anything to console her, she took a step back from her hug and then punched me in the arm. It barely stung, unlike if it'd been from Before, but I flinched and cried "Ow" out of habit. It's honestly ironic how she wanted to be an actress yet seemed allergic to her own emotions.

"For goodness sake, Peter, you scared the shit out of me. I should be the one asking _what the hell? _First, you went AWOL on me after the field trip, then I found out you were bedridden with a hell of a fever for so long that I thought you were dying— _Holy smoke, _ you have abs!"

Well, that's a quick change of subject. "Yeah, thanks for noticing."

"Uhm…" she looked uncertainly between me and my abs, "Congrats on puberty?"

I couldn't hold back the frustrated groan that came out and had half a mind to tell her what puberty does and doesn't do to a healthy hormonal male teenager but was thankfully saved by Aunt May's call for breakfast before I dug my grave.

"Thanks for stopping by, MJ. But I'm fine, healthy as a horse even. So you should go before you get into trouble or… more trouble, at least."

She nodded, "Okay, okay, just… take care of yourself, Peter. Gosh, I don't know what I'll do with my life without you keeping me sane."

"Pretty sure you'd still kick ass and take names."

"Damn straight, and don't you forget it, Tiger." MJ gave me one last (relief) smile and a cheeky wink before crawling back out from my window, crossing one roof to another, and back to her room.

This is a bit of a thing with me and MJ. She's been my neighbor ever since I moved with Aunt May, but it took three years before finally meeting her, and that was only because I was set up by her and my aunt to a playdate. We get along just fine, but it was a year later when I heard a concerning yell from the next-door neighbor. Aunt May and Uncle Ben had been out that night, but maybe that's why the occupant didn't need to lower their voices this time. I watched Mary-Jane bursting out of the door, crying, with no one following her out.

That day, I invited her in for hot chocolate with those little marshmallows on top. She sniffled and nodded. And that was that. I didn't ask what was wrong or what happened. I'd sound more considerate and perceptive if I knew she didn't want to talk about it, but honestly? I was just too awkward to ask.

However, that day did become the start of a sort of routine for us. Whenever MJ felt she needs to get away, my door is always open for her. At some point, we talk whenever about whatever. We knew each other's favorite books, dreams, past crushes, shared our favorite movies while tolerating each other's taste, and… well… parents. MJ became more than just my dearest friend, she was like a family to me. Though, I do still have more common decency than to burst into someone's room through a window.

That girl is going to be the death of me someday.

So, MJ's appearance calmed me down and decided to wait for further development of my newest… condition. I suppose the effect isn't entirely adverse for now, so no use whining about it.

May wanted me to stay a bit longer, but I reassured her that I was okay and have a lot of energy to spare after being stuck in bed for too long. She was still skeptical, but Uncle Ben reassured her that I know my own body and wouldn't push myself too hard as long as it doesn't involve 'science.'

I regretted brushing her worries off the moment I stepped outside as I became hyper-aware of everything. You know how you feel the air shifted when a ball was coming before getting hit in the face? Knowing your surroundings when your eyes were latched on a good book as you walk pass lamps or people? Or being mindful of something just at the corner of eyes without really looking?

Take all of that and amp it up by a hundred, then you get my point.

I could've just gone back and followed Aunt May's advice. I don't know what part of me that thought going forward was a good idea, but I did. Dissecting everything I was experiencing with this new… sense I had. It's a bit like having six eyes, I guess. I walked with my eyes looking straight forward, but I was aware of the fly buzzing annoyingly by my side that I caught without a second thought, the 14 bubbles blown by the kids across the streets, and the car running at 20 mph from behind before passing me by.

I later learned this sense of mine isn't any different from my other senses, and when I really focused on one thing, then the rest kind of eased up a bit. Like a selective awareness, I suppose.

Other than that particular annoyance, school was the same old, same old. Harry asked how I was doing, and I waved his worry off by saying I'm fine. There was no reason for him to think I'm lying since I looked no worse for wear. I had half a mind to tell my best friend what happened, but I thought it was no good to have two people freaking out over something we both don't understand.

Gwen Stacy surprised me when she caught me in the hall and asked, "Hey, are you okay?"

"What?"

"You missed school for three days since the field trip, I thought you might have caught something."

"Oh, no, no, no. I'm fine. Just running a fever, all better now."

She nodded, "Good, good, it'd be a shame if the field trip was the only time we really talk."

The world became just a bit brighter them, and no, I don't think that's my extra-sense talking. The bell rang (annoyingly so), and she sent me one last smile before she went off for first period, and I thought the day was going to be as normal as they can be despite the _extraness. _

But the day barely started, and of course, I was proven wrong. Gwen was walking up the stairs to her class when I discovered another particular… quirk of mine.

Number one, I felt goosebumps all over and a not-so-uncomfortable tingle, like an alarm, at the back of my head. Right before, Gwen slipped and could have hit head had I not caught her.

Number two, I caught and stack all the books with one hand like they were falling in slow motion.

"Wow, I didn't know you have great reflex."

_And I didn't know you use rose-vanilla scented shampoo. Uh-ho, that sounded creepy. Cancel thought. Cancel thought. _

I broke out of my stupor and handed her her books while I mentally filed those two abilities. "Yeah, well, there's a lot of things you still don't know about me."

"I can see that."

I was about to let go of her when I found my hand feeling stuck. I pulled, but then Gwen cried in pain. I tried again, but Gwen yelled, "Ow, Peter, what are you doing?" My eyes were blown wide as it quickly dawned on me how.

Number three, sticky fingers_ . _Of all the weird powers I had, I've got sticky fingers sticking out on my crush's hair.

_This just got a whole lot better. _

We ended up in a kind of merry-go-round as we circled each other, round and round, round and round. Gwen pleading me to let go, and me not knowing how.

At some point, my hand loosened its hold, but the momentum threw me back that I drop into the janitor's mop bucket, and I became the laughing stock of my school.

_Well, the day just turned from my weirdest point to my lowest. _

The rest had been of a blur, all I knew was that I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could before embarrassing myself further. That, and gaining control of my power becomes a priority for me.

When I was changing in the bathroom, that's when I noticed a dead spider in my bag. My hand then reaching out for the bite on my neck. The bite from a spider. But what caught my eyes the most was the tiny white mark '42' on its back.

_Forty-two… Spider 42… the super spider from Doctor Connor's research lab! I just got bitten by a probably million-dollar worth experiment. _

_And I killed it! _

_Oh my God, I'm so screweeeeeeed. _

I felt my soul left for a bit at the thought of lawsuit Oscorp make if they ever found out and swore to myself to keep that secret to my grave. Quickly, I put the spider corpse into the unused bottle pill I forgot to throw out. Logically, I should toss the evidence away and be done with it. But not only could my heart willingly throw away a scientific marvel like some common thrash, I needed it if I wanted to find out precisely the changes happening within me and how.

Having done my due freak out, I continued the rest of the day like nothing happened. Which was hard when I couldn't stop fidgeting through classes. I spent most of chemistry period trying to get my pen off my hand as I had another sticky situation. I was out of sort enough to warrant Harry's concern but easily brushed him off. As long as I lay low for most of the day and avoid trouble, the sooner I can get out and actually learn how to keep these newfound powers of mine under control so I could live the rest of my life without being an even more of a freak.

That wishful thinking went straight out the window the moment I saw Flash in one of his bullying antics. While I can keep to myself when he starts messing with me, I don't turn a blind eye when he messes other kids, especially when we're technically childhood friends. I have this unusual sense of responsibility in keeping an eye out on him.

I know, I don't know why either.

So I get up, call him Eugene (that always riles him up), but my reflex kicked in before he did and pretty much made him a laughing stock. Though I really think I need to push my reflex in from being overboard because I had tried to somersault above him to avoid a punch. Overkill, but damn if that look on his face wasn't worth it. I couldn't help but break out into a smirk with him finally getting a taste of his own medicine in front of all these crowds.

But then I started punching him back, and I lost control enough that he flew back hard enough to dent the lockers.

Hey, I swear, it was all reflex, I wasn't thinking! High IQ and intelligence don't mean shit when you don't use them.

But man, did that feel good. All the kids practically cheered on me, and for once in my life, I wasn't the Puny Parker, Nerdy Parker, or Penis Parker. They looked at me and saw Peter Parker. A cooler and better version of him. I have powers now that can help take control of my life, and not let anyone push me around. It felt awesome.

Until they called my uncle in for getting into a fight. In which case that felt not so great.

He was not happy about that.

"What were you thinking, Peter?!"

Not happy at all.

"Uncle Ben, I know I messed up. I'll make sure to find a way to pay back the damage, and I just hope Flash's dad wasn't serious in suing us-"

"I don't care about the payment, Peter. I care from the fact they said you've gone out of your way to humiliate and hurt that boy."

"But, but he was bullying Hobbie. I couldn't just stand there and let him get away with him. In fact, he deserves it."

"Is that what this is about, getting even?" Uncle Ben had lost the rising tone of his voice and was much calmer, but that didn't diminish the anger that still lingered. "Then you must feel better about yourself right now, am I right or wrong?"

I huffed frustratingly, looking down at my feet, not answering him. I didn't think I was to blame, nor did I feel it was fair for Flash to get away with worse stuff while I had to be lectured. Uncle Ben wouldn't understand having being belittled over and over again just for being who I am or doing the right thing and got nothing to show for it other than a weekly beating.

Ben's form seemed to sagged as he sighed, alongside his anger. Instead, he looked at me with those wide disappointing eyes of his. It was worse than being confronted with his anger because it made it harder for me not to feel being in the wrong. He punctuated further by telling me of his change shift, so I had to pick up Aunt May from the hospital that night.

Then I noticed his eyes shifted to something or someone behind me. I followed his gaze and spotted Gwen, "Oh, Gwen, hey. Are you alright? You know, with the…" I gestured at the side of her hair that got tangled from our last debacle.

"Oh yeah, it's fine." She played it off as nothing.

"Gosh, I'm _sooooo _so sorry about that. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Good thing you didn't pull it harder with whatever superglue you had on hand, or I'd have a pretty bad haircut."

"I, I think you'd look amazing with, with any haircut. I mean, you look… moldable…" Gwen looked confused, and I had to keep from slapping myself because, _really, Peter? Moldable? That's your best compliment? _"I mean, what I said is that I'm sure you still look pretty whatever hair you'll have."

"Hey, isn't she the girl from your computer?" Uncle Ben voiced out without even lowering his volume.

_No. _

_Oh no. _

"He's got you on your computer!" Oh God, Uncle Ben _why?! _"I'm his probation officer."

Just when you think I couldn't dig myself deeper, my Uncle came helping to bury me in shame. I had to bite my lip so I wouldn't shout in frustration in that second. Instead, I forced out a laugh once he left and tried to salvage as much dignity as I could if there was any.

"He's my guardian. My uncle, actually. He's a pathological liar, so it's better you don't listen to him."

She grinned like a cat who got her canary, "Oh man, so you don't have me on your computer?"

"Well, I took a photo of the decathlon team and since you're part of the team… he must have seen me touching up stuff."

"So you were… touching up… stuff?" She teased with a salacious smirk, and we laughed at the inappropriate joke we shared.

"That's a trick question. I'm not going to answer that."

"You didn't get expelled, did you?"

"Fortunately, no. Just community service. Though Flash's dad got a lot to say on me. Almost tried to sue actually, which was scary as hell…" I trailed off with nothing to say.

The two of us standing, smiling awkwardly, but neither were we willing to be the first one to take a step back from the other. The way she lingered as she tucked her blonde hair behind her ear, and smiled up at me with those bright sapphire eyes of hers gave the little bit of hope I need. "So, err, do you, umm, do you want to…"

"What?"

"Just err...I don't know, we can, I don't know, we can go… do something together?"

"Like what?" she asked softly like she was nudging me to say plainly.

I bit my lip, trying hard not to gapped like a fish as I was lost for words. Pulling the back of my hair to keep myself together, "You know what, never mind, you probably wouldn't want…"

"Wouldn't want what?"

"You know… hang out… together… just us two… if you want."

"Sure," Gwen said quickly as if she had been waiting for me to ask her out. She looked just as awed as me that I manage to say it to her face. "Totally. I'd be up for it."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

"Great. That's great!" I started backing away, needing to leave but not wanting to take my eyes off her, just in case I wasn't hallucinating. "Obviously. I can't right now."

"Yeah, me too. I'm so busy right now."

"So busy," I blow out my cheeks in agreement. "So we'll talk later, once we have plans."

She nodded with a bright grin, "I'm game whenever you are, but not right now since well… we're both busy, so..." She started leaving as well, moving in the opposite direction, one step at a time but would look back from time to time.

It was only when she was out of sight did I turn and began humming while skipping my way out of school to its beat. Not at all care who might see me as the day ended as my best day ever.

**. . . **

Later on, that day. It became a priority for me to grasp and understand my new found spidey powers, as I like to call it. I came to rest in a bare alleyway, keeping myself from panicking. Who knew the smell of sewage and rat piss can calm you down in an uncomfortable way, but it did the trick. I closed my eyes and tried to recap all the unusual quirks I had.

"Okay, so I've got mad reflex skill, higher senses, and some sort of perception skill. What else…?" I rubbed my hands in thought before I felt the different texture in my hand. I closely examined the ridges ion my fingers, and thanks to my superior sight did I notice… something growing out of it. A sort of horrified awe made me gaped. It's one thing to feel and experience the power, it's another to actually witness something so… visibly inhuman happening to my body.

Following my hunch, I looked between the walls and my fingers, and another feeling surged within me. Excitement. For the unknown, learning and discovering all that entails. It was what pushed me in making the first step on putting my hand on the wall and realizing how I manage to pull myself up and crawled up the building.

The rest of the events was a blur all happened as the rush of adrenaline filled my day. But it involves a lot of wall-crawling, parkouring spider-styler, jumping one building from another with an easy leap, and standing at the tip of my finger without the fear of losing balance. The power I had came with me in ease as my limbs once I stopped fearing about it. I learned quickly enough that I don't have _all _the spider powers at my disposal.

Coincidentally, I spotted a spider in the middle of creating its cobweb beneath the water tank. I glanced down at my hand and thought maybe… just maybe…

"Go web!" I had my hand outstretched in hopes for… something.

But nothing happened.

"Fly!" Zippo.

"Up, up, and away web!" _Nada _.

"Shazam!" Oops, wrong comic book.

A minute spent trying to call out webs from my hands with… questionable gestures, but whatever spider power I have, webs isn't one of them.

Unless…

Thirty minutes later in a potty hole, I'm delighted to say no web is coming out in any hole from me.

Still, as excited as I was, there was a bit of fear of becoming a sort-of-mutant. It's not exactly a public thing, but you've heard of them enough that they don't exactly have the best reputation. Though why the public opinion split between man-made mutant and naturally born one is beyond me.

Putting racial issues aside, while having powers is turning out great, I need to learn to control it quickly. You'll never know the kind of trigger I might have that might accidentally have me using them in front of others when I'm not ready to _out _myself yet. My newest Olympic-grade jump help in finding an abandoned warehouse where I can test my skills to my heart's content. So much so that before I realized it, it was already past curfew.

When I got to the porch of my house and found Uncle Ben waiting with a grim look on his face. I knew I had fuck up because he didn't look angry, he looked pissed. Cold dread started to ooze out in my chest. "Where have you been?"

"I, err, I was just, err…" My phone rang, and acknowledging the tension in the air, I immediately shut it off.

"Oh, so you're phone is on. Good." His voice didn't sound 'good' though. "You owe your aunt an apology. Big time!"

It dawned on me then what I did wrong. I forgot to pick up Aunt May from her workplace. I got inside, intend to do exactly that. Explain to them that I got distracted that I didn't mean to forget about her.

But Uncle Ben was having none of my excuses. He made it a point to remind me how May had to walk 12 blocks alone at night. How both of them couldn't get a reach for me for the rest of the day and had been worried as hell. He made it a point that my carelessness and neglect today could have consequences. I thought he was exaggerating. So I messed up, yes. I admit that. But it was only one night, and I had a life-changing experience. Surely I could be excused? I thought it was unfair, but then again, it's not like I could tell him I got distracted by basically becoming a mutant. But I avoided looking at him anyway, I couldn't bare seeing the disappointment on Uncle Ben's face.

"Your father had a philosophy," he began with a softer tone and this time I can't help but meet his eyes, "He held onto it pretty strongly, and it's one that served him ultimately well. He believed if there were things in the world you had to offer, things that you did well better than anyone, it's no longer a choice to do good for people, but also as his moral obligation. Great things are gonna happen to you in life, Peter, and with that will come great responsibility."

And that….

That was the final straw.

I bit my lip, but not even the stinging pain could hold back the clawing feel in my chest like my heart was going to be ripped out. "That's great, that's wonderful, but where is he? **_Where's my dad?_**" I choked out.

"Peter..." Aunt May started, but I couldn't stop. It's too late to calm me down.

"Why can't he be here and tell me himself?"

"Ah, come on, how dare you–"

"How dare I? How dare you? _You're not my dad, so stop pretending to be _."

Silence. We both said what we said. And I stomped out of the house. I didn't know where I was going and mostly remembered the anger, the shame, the tears, and how I just wanted to get away from it all. At some point, I reached the city and was near one of the public libraries I often visit. My legs must have dragged through muscle memory, the place I felt safe.

While walking through some alley, I saw the poster of an underground wrestling match with a prize money amounting $3000 and thought; _why the hell not? _

I bought a red ski mask since it was the only bright color mask they had (Dark color just came off way too burglary for my taste) and sign up for the match. The people in the venue weren't quite welcoming of me, and I can't blame them, considering the jeans, red hoodie, and red ski mask as my overall. I looked like a kid who knows nothing what he's getting into.

Confession; I have no idea what I'm getting into.

The first hurdle was convincing them to join the match. I never imagined my skinny constitution that deterred them from me.

Still, after registering my name and signing some contract, I got to be on the match and was confident I could not only survive for 3 minutes but win the round. I was feeling pissed enough as it is, so the prize money gave me further reason than just blowing off some steam.

But then I found out the Champion Wrestler Bonesaw was the biggest, meanest person I've ever seen, with a set a dense muscle that complements him, and a face that looked like he ate bone for breakfast and a whole bear for dinner in a cage match.

The contract did not say anything about a cage!

Still, I won with two minutes to spare (I may have thought I was going to die once or twice). The crowds that had been booing me were now cheering, and I thought this is the kind of life that I want. Adoring fans. Fame. Money. Everything I never had, everything I've ever dream of having, all within my grasp.

Maybe I'd be even cool enough to be with Gwen Stacy.

The high I had plummeted way down as the guy from registry gave me a measly 300 dollar. I asked him why since the contract obviously said 3000, and gave a flimsy reason that the deal was to stay in the cage for 3 minutes while I barely managed in one. Which, excuse you. If you're going to cheat my money, at least do some basic math! My one minute totally deserves at least a 1000 bucks.

"Not my problem," he only said.

While I could just force him to give him the money, there's the fact it's ethically wrong, and I didn't need the money anyway. It still pisses me off that the guy was an ass, so the only thing I could do was storm off.

It wasn't even 5 minutes later while waiting for the elevator did the same guy started screaming, "Stop him. Stop him!"

A tattooed guy was running with the bag of cash he had stolen. As the elevator door opened, I pulled my hands up in surrender and let him make his getaway.

"Great, he escaped. Fat a lot of good you did."

"Hey, it's not my problem," I shot back before deciding to take the stairs. I didn't feel an ounce of guilt. The guy deserved it anyway for being a jerk, and besides, what was I supposed to do? For all I know, the guy had a gun or something. Just because I had powers doesn't make me a hero.

No. I learned that either you choose to be a hero for having a heart of gold…

...or having a dark tragedy that pushed you to be one.

The moment I walked into the usually quiet neighborhood, there was a gunshot sound that turned my blood ice cold. Panic and fear suddenly seized me as I began running back home, hoping and praying they were safe. Ignoring the waken neighbors as they got out either out of fear or curiosity.

But when I did, it was chaos. The car was gone, the door was broken open, and when I rushed inside, my uncle was dying in Aunt May's arm. The world at that moment felt it was breaking apart under my feet. I reached out for him, I didn't know what I was saying other than a variation of "Stay with me", "I'm sorry", or "Please don't go!"

He didn't say anything, just holding on to us as long as he could as if trying to burn the last image he'll see with his wrinkled, teary eyes.

By the time the medics and police arrived, Benjamin Parker had left the world. With my name as the last word he said.

The officer's words washed over me like the tides. I barely listened, but I must have, otherwise, how would I have answered his questions. But then I heard from his radio that the suspect was in pursued and needed backup to corner him. I was immediately on alert, and my vision turned red at the nerve of this burglar who came into my house, killed one of the two only family members I have for a car and money, and thinks he can get away with it.

**Not on my watch.**

I slammed the door to my room, wore my red ski mask, and jumped out of my bedroom window. It wasn't smooth sailing when trailing after the copper's car through the rooftop and running sideways on buildings, but I more or less manage.

I snuck into the warehouse where the burglar locked himself in. I crawled my way to him silent before getting the jump on him. He aimed his gun at me, but I grabbed his hand tight enough to break it and have him dropped the weapon. The weapon that killed my uncle. I punched and kicked relentlessly without checking my strength. His screams of agony went deaf to my ears for every satisfying crack, and blood splattered. I didn't care about anything else but wanting **to make him pay.**

But then I pulled off his mask and… and… you know how it ends.

Afterward, I went back home like nothing happened. Physically and emotionally exhausted that all I wanted to do was cry myself to sleep. But then I heard Aunt May crying as well, and guilt overwhelmed me like a tidal wave. How my temper made me leave her on her own when she must have needed me most, how my careless inaction led one of the most caring, kind people I know to mourn her beloved. And the loss of a great father.

Putting aside my own feelings, I crept beside Aunt May, we held one another as we grieved together all the way in our sleep.

Most people would say it was after this moment that I decided to be a hero.

Not… exactly.

I learn from the incident not to take my power lightly, not when it made me turn to be a careless person, and not when choice could impact more than me. Of never turning away from help. So while I decided to not use it irresponsibly, I didn't know what responsibility I have for having a freaky spider power. What my role in society could be. How exactly I could help people with them.

While Uncle Ben inspires me to do the right thing, what inspired me to be a superhero was when during a typical Saturday morning, I watched a certain gold-titanium-alloy-armor hero's press conference of his plan in reopening Stark Expo.

And so I began to plan.

* * *

**AN: One thing I can never forgive MCU for: HOW DARE THEY CUT OFF UNCLE BEN. He's the true father figure of Peter Parker for him not to get a single mention in the movie is the worst insult I could ever think of. Oh, and if you biatches think something along the lines of but we've already known his backstory and the ' great responsibility' line so there's no need to bring him out since we have Tony, who is just as awesome as a father figure. **

**NEWS FLASH: Spiderverse managed to do just that in less than 30 seconds. It's one thing if the character isn't important to his backstory or the overall plotline, but Uncle Ben is supposed to be as indispensable as Aunt May! That man raises Peter Parker. He didn't just make him be responsible but also to be the compassionate, righteous man we know now. So I'm freaking disappointed there isn't a single acknowledgment for him. IronDad is adorable and I never said otherwise. In fact, it's one of my goals in the fic. But Peter can still look up to anyone without the expense of Benjamin Parker, one of the greatest fictional dads to be made because of LAZY WRITING! **

**I have feels for him, okay?! They have Aunt May in the movie, the least they could do is mention his freaking name!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Help, help, somebody, help me!"

_The thing about a superhero is that people don't call you that. Not at the start anyway. _

"Quiet," the assailant muffled her with his hand and shove a knife at her neck, "Now give me all your money or I'll slit your throat out."

_They'll call you menace, a creep, criminal, vigilante. _

"You know…" an uncharacteristically high, cheery voice pierce the dark tension. The mugger looked between his sides, but there's not even a shadow of a man. "...it'd be really hard for her to give out her purse with you pushing her like you're trying to feel her. Totally impractical. It'd be better if you let her go, go home, and kick back on your sofa. It'll save you the embarrassment of me kicking your ass."

"Who are you?!" The man cried with a slight tremble. The darkness of the alley did not help his nerve, "Show yourself!"

_It was totally unfair when all I ever wanted was to help people. But… a part of me (probably the self-hatred, angsty, unreasonable part) was glad for the reception. It means I have the chance to actually earn that title. _

Having sufficiently distracted him from the woman, faster than the mugger could react, I stroked the hand that held the knife and kicked him away from the woman. He grunted, and I didn't let him gain his stance before leaping high enough to knee him on the side of the head.

The guy tipped sideways but stood upright, my eyes boggled at him behind the googles. "Really? The last guy I tried that was instantly KOed. You must have hit your head a lot to get that hard."

He grew frustratingly angry and whipped out another hidden knife (Where does he even keep that?) and brandished at me with a war cry. Having super-reflex at my side, it felt like indulging a toddler trying all their might to hit you. No, wait, I take that back, toddlers are way worse, you never know where they're going to hit you. He's worse than a toddler.

But he certainly is more durable than one. I punched, dodge, kicked, dodged repeatedly, and still, he wouldn't go down. It was getting annoying, and as my temper got the better of me, I took hold of his knife-arm. Locked his arm in place, then giving a nice swift kick to his torso before he _FINALLY _stayed down.

Though my super-sense did not let me miss the audible crack from the last hit I made.

"_ Aaaaaarrgghhhhh _! My ribs! Ow, my ribs, you broke them! Argh!"

I winced at the poor man's cry of pain and covered my mask-covered mouth in horror, "I'm _soooooo _sorry, I'm still new at this super-strength stuff and I've been trying really hard not to accidentally maim anyone."

"Aaaaaaarrrrrrggghhhh!"

"But to be fair, you shouldn't really threaten defenseless woman, Mister. You never know when karma will bite you in the ass for it."

"Fuck yaaaaaaaaaarrrrrggghhhh!"

"Now that is very rude, and here I am apologizing and giving you good life advice."

"Aaaaaaarrrrrrggghhhh"

"Okay, Mister "Argh". You stay here, and I'll call the ambulance."

"Err..." that voice wasn't Mister Argh. turned around, and the lady I saved was still lingering in the alley, phone out with a dialed 911 number on the screen. "I already called the police and ambulance to the scene so…" she sounded unsure how to proceed with the conversation. Getting saved by a wall-crawling, googled-eyed man isn't exactly an everyday thing.

"Oh thank God, you did." I slumped my shoulder in relief, "All the other people I saved immediately ran off once I arrived so I had to call the police with no one to testify against them."

She raised her perfectly drawn eyebrows and glanced at the whimpering man on the ground, "Did you leave them just as bad as him, if so, I might call on more ambulance."

"Oh, no. I left the other more or less intact and unconscious. The police should know if they need medical attention. This is the first time I actually… err… break anyone."

"_ Aaaaaaarrggggghhhhhhh _."

"You do know you might have given them a concussion?"

I was surprised at her insightful thought and gave a proper look at her, and noticed the scrub she was wearing. So she's either a nurse or a doctor.

"Urgh, I know. But then if I don't knock them out, they might run and hurt someone else. I can't forgive myself if that ever happens."

The auburn-head woman gave a piercing look that made me feel like I'm under scrutinization. "While you weren't given many options, as a neurosurgeon, I would suggest you invest a rope to tie your crook instead of leaving them for the poor sods working the night shift."

I froze, and stared bug-eyed at her, "What did you just say?"

"What? The poor sods on the night shift?"

"No, no, before that."

"Invest a rope to tie your crooks?"

That's it! An idea sprang in my head, and I laughed raucously. She jumped a bit back by my change of tune. "Doctor, you're a genius!"

"Umm… thank you?" She sounded unsure at my exuberant reaction for the rope suggestion. Oh, how little she knew that I held a much, much more exciting idea in mind than just investing a boring rope.

The tell-tale siren and I got ready to bolt, "Thanks for the suggestion Doctor… what's your name?"

I was suddenly aware of the fact that a masked man who easily broke someone's bone asking a lone woman's name doesn't exactly bode well and wanted to slap myself for the blunder.

She hesitated for a bit before answering, "Call me Doctor Palmer." Silently, I was grateful for her small show of faith for me.

"Well thank you again, Doctor Palmer, you just made this spider's day." I jumped from one wall to another before landing on the roof and started running for the next trouble awaiting on the streets of New York.

**. . . **

Life felt different without Uncle Ben. As if nothing can ever be the right again. The funeral had been a simple one. MJ and Harry came.

"He didn't deserve it, Peter. Your uncle is worth more than all the bastards in the world, he didn't deserve this. You don't deserve this." MJ held my hand and it felt like holding on to the only lifeline I had from drowning in my own dark thoughts.

"I can't imagine what you must be feeling, Pete. But I'm sorry it happened to your uncle, of all people. He was cool. I…" Harry squeezed my shoulder. "I don't even know what to say in this case, but just know I'm here for you, Pete."

Going to school was like going through the motions. While I would like more than anything to wallow in my misery in my locked messy room. I knew I couldn't move on if I didn't take the first step. I wasn't back, emotionally, but I was getting there. My senses that were supposed to be jacked-up became numb, everything seemed to pass by in slow motion, and I irrationally felt claustrophobic from the eyes of the masses that couldn't seem to take their eyes off me like I was a ticking time bomb. I didn't think anyone knows me enough to care.

The hardest thing during that period was getting my power under control. More than once did the water fountain break down, locker door bent, or a badly returned basketball crashing through the tempered glass. Even when Flash began calling out to me, I warned him not to get close before the last shred of my patient snap. The moment he touched my shoulder, I pushed him back to the walls and lifted him up. I didn't care there were witnesses who saw me man-handling him, I just wanted to be left alone.

"This feels good right?" Flash started saying, strangely calm at the face of my wrath, "Look, your uncle died. I'm sorry. I get it, I do. And I'm so, so sorry."

There was nothing in his words and tone that wasn't sincere, and to hear, Flash-Eugene, of all people, said it. That shattered me. The strength in my arm fell and loosened my hold on me. It took every bit of my remaining control to keep myself from crying in front of him. So I backed away and quickly ran. Because as much as I appreciate the sentiment, there's no way I'm going to break in front of him.

"Peter?" A voice, soft and apologetic. Gwen stood in front of me. Usually, just her presence would light up my day. But not today. Not now. I wasn't sure I was ready to face her or anyone really, not to mention hearing another apology.

But Gwen didn't say anything. Just surge up and pull me into a hug. I rest my chin by the crook of her neck and let myself be soothed by the warmth and comfort of her. Let myself be vulnerable even as I still kept myself from crying. No words were needed, but it was weird how that one action told me everything she didn't say, but I knew.

I knew.

**. . . **

"Peter, hurry! You want to see this."

"Comin' Aunt May."

I made hasty steps down with the TV already blaring in the living room. Almost a week has passed since the incident. We both tried to keep each other strong until the house didn't feel somber anymore with just the two of us.

On the screen, Tony Stark looked back at me with the familiar cocky smile that seemed to tell everyone "You know who I am." His trademark goatee that I wouldn't be surprised if he had copyrighted it. While I may still be grieving for Uncle Ben, I couldn't deny the jolt of excitement at seeing one of my favorite science figures.

"Yes, in five months' time, the Stark Expo will once again reopen for the best and brightest people and industries to pull out their resources share their collective visions, leaving behind a better future," Mr. Stark said from the TV. His professional attitude then melted away as he slouched like he's exhausted. "I'm sure I already told you this. Why am I telling you this again? Someone ask me a better question, please!"

One reporter raised her hand and did just that, "Lana Lois from the Daily Globe. Will you be replicating your father's concept of the Stark Expo?"

"Finally, a good fu**ing question, see what she did there everyone? Take notes. And as for the answer; God, no. If he were still alive, he would disown for putting forth the exact same concept. My old man had many principles, one of them is that if you're gonna do something, make sure you either do it bigger or better. And that's what I intend to do."

"Would you mind explaining those detailed plans of yours?"

"Well there's too many to list them all, but I can say one of my plans is to create a segment that acts both as an exhibition and a competition. A reminder that Stark Expo doesn't only exist to leave behind for the future but for the future to make something of themselves. That's why I'm proud to announce the Stark Expo will gladly receive all youths and schools that put their vision into reality. The winner would get a full scholarship to any college and spot exhibition on the big stage alongside me. What better prize than that? Next question."

"Daily Bugle's Richard Skit. Do you believe Iron-Man is currently put in the right hand as your personal toy weapon for your new superhero hobby or are there any plans to entrust them to the proper authorities?"

Even from the screen, the rising tension was palpable. There were scandalized outcry, and many turned to shoot the guy stink eyes, but the reporter was not at all ashamed by the bold question he asked that was not at all appropriate.

Mr. Stark's eyes hardened, "Going for the big question. Ambitious one, aren't you? Well, I'm feeling generous so I'll answer this. You see -"

"Skit."

"Same thing, Mr. Skirt. You are enunciating that I've built a military-grade weapon for my own personal amusement. I would say it's insulting if I haven't heard worse. No doubt there'd be a hearing about it sooner or later so let me air it out for you. Iron-Man has never been and will never be a weapon. It's a symbol, a persona, Iron-Man is me. Not the suit. _Me _. I'm not a weapon. I'm a man. Smarter, richer, and more equipped than the average person, yes. But a man, nonetheless. And last I check, there is no law against having for a civilian to try putting a stop of weapons of my own making being used in the wrong hands and harming the innocent while the government is too busy concerning themselves with politics to put a stop for it.

"So this is me, finally getting my head out of my ass and finally doing something about it instead of looking the other way. Some of you call me a superhero for that, but I call it taking responsibility. Anyway, now that the questions are becoming irrelevant, I'm putting this conference into an end." Then Mr. Stark left the podium even as the crowd of journalists called out his name.

Aunt May started asking if I was joining the Stark Youth Exhibition but I didn't listen. Too busy staring off at the TV as it came to me what I can do take responsibility. To live up to Uncle Ben's name and Dad's principle.

So at school, while everyone was taking notes of chemical reactions. I was making a sort of to-do list in my upcoming debut as a superhero. I searched through articles about superheroes or vigilantes, but other than a masked man in Hell's Kitchen, Iron Man, a mysterious mutant group some dubbed as X-Men, and a few cases related to "enhanced" people, there wasn't much you can find them. The most reliable findings are the videos of the Fantastic Four's old fights, but they're getting lesser in updates since they started going for the stars… literally.

The same week, I started going out on my own. I was a nervous wreck. Fighting people, I have no problem. Not to toot my own horn, I have complete confidence in that department. Being able to save anyone is another thing. I'm messed up as it is, I'll hate myself more if I can't even save people right.

My fear turned out to be unwarranted as I saved 18 people before the clock strikes one. I would have loved nothing more than to hit the bed and fall into oblivion but it was important for me to make a list of what I learned today. So I whipped out my phone and began recording myself. It's kind of like a video diary, but I'd like to call it _Peter Parker's Scientific Record _, just to make it sound more official.

After all, as one wise man said, "_The difference between screwing around and science… is writing it down._"

Or in this case, recording it.

So from my brief experience, what I compile was thus:

Running around New York is exhausting. Barely covered my desired patrol area if not for my spider-stamina

Need a quicker way to subdue my crooks. Otherwise not only do I have to put them unconscious every time, but I'd be too busy fighting one criminal to stop another crime just a block away.

Basic medical first-aid. Never know if the crook or victim gets hurt and need one. Talk to Aunt May!

The people I saved kept running away! Like… I know they're scared and they just want to run back home, but it would totally help me if they can testify against their assailants and keep them off the street that way. Solution? No idea.

Not a priority, but a new costume might be great. Because hello?! SUPERHERO COSTUME! _How cool would that be?!_

Thankfully, I've got the perfect solution; WEB-SHOOTERS. Not only would that solve the first two of my problems, but it would also go well with my spider-theme powers. Never it'd be said that I don't go for the aesthetic choice. But that would need certain lab equipment I'm not equipped with.

"…no choice, I might have to break into the school, after all."

Before I contemplate more seriously in how I could get away with breaking and entering. The next day, I had a phone call from someone unexpected.

"Hello, Peter. It's me, Dr. Connors, I hope you don't mind but I'd like to share a few words with you if that's okay."

There was an awkwardly long silence where my brain short-circuited and my airway got cut off because the leading expertise of genealogy is calling in my family's phone like it's a normal thing and I'm trying not to freak out.

Hey, don't you judge me! How would you like it if you got a random call from Morgan Freeman or Ryan Reynolds for example? Don't tell me not to freak out.

"Peter?"

"Oh, yes, err, absolutely, Dr. Connors. What can I do for you?"

"I would like to ask you a question, forgive me if I'm wrong but are you by chance the son of Richard Parker?"

The shock of the question was enough to loosen my hold on the phone, but it didn't drop because of the sticky portion of my Spider Power.

"Ye, ye, yes? How do you—"

"—know? Because Richard Parker was my coworker in Oscorp."

I wasn't sure why I was surprised, I knew Dad was a scientist and I knew he worked in an important company. It just never occurred to me that it had been Oscorp. Harry's dad certainly hadn't clued me in on that.

"Wow, really? I, I didn't know much about his friends when I was young so this is a surprise for me."

"I understand, this must be quite a revelation. You can imagine how shocked I was in hearing your name during your field trip. I, I didn't know if you were truly his son but I couldn't help but check."

"No, I got it. Thank you for calling this is…" I grinned and tried not to break into laughter at the craziness of it all. "It's amazing that's all, I never expected to find a friend of Dad's. When he left, there wasn't much that he left behind concerning his work life."

"I figured. It still left me speechless thinking how abruptly he left nine years ago with all his work."

"So, after all this time, why did you call?"

Dr. Connors didn't answer immediately, seemingly gathering his thoughts as I heard him wetting his lips. "Richard wasn't just a coworker, he is a good friend as well. My best friend, in fact. We have a common goal in our research, though with different specialties and subjects, that we often time exchanged ideas through late nights.

"However, when he disappeared all those years ago… I'm ashamed to say I was angry at him for leaving none of his works behind. The work that could potentially help millions of people. So blinded by my emotion, it never occurred to me that he left behind someone much more important." _Me, _hung unspoken in the air, but the implication was unmistakable. My heart caught in my throat, and I tried to steady my breathing before my emotion got the better of me.

"I, I know this might be too late but I would very much like to work and connect with you, Peter. I did the liberty of checking your report and found that your eligible for an internship at Oscorp… if you're interested of cours—"

"YES!" I found myself agreeing without a second thought, "Yes, yes, absolutely. That's, er, this is a great opportunity, Sir. I won't let you down."

"Excellent. I'll contact your school, and we'll see if we can work out an arrangement. I'll be looking forward to working with you Mr. Parker."

Yeah, so, that crazy thing happened.

I spend the rest of my day in a daze like I wasn't sure whether I'm dreaming or not. Later, I had to chuckle at my act. Getting spider-power; freaky but cool. Getting to work with one of the coolest scientists alive? Yeah, I must be dreaming.

This is great news on so many levels. For one, I get to have access to cutting edge equipment for the raw materials for my webs and kept spare parts the web-shooters itself. Though I might have to go dumpster-diving, just in case Dr. Conners got suspicious of my unusual tech-hoarding. For another, I get to work with Dr. Connors! Not only is that an honor, but he might also know something about my dad. While Uncle Ben would more often tell me about him, he didn't really know much about his life as a scientist, something Connors can shed some light on.

It occurred to me later on that I never got the chance to check all my dad's belongings, it still hurts thinking about my parents and how they left me behind. So right after dinner, I took out a shoebox I kept beneath my bed that was filled with all my childhood stuff. Whether it was my first drone, photos, VHS, and toys I don't need but couldn't part. Out of all those junks, I took out a notebook filled with childish rambles and drawings, but you look through the pages and you'll find bits and pieces of formulas and calculations not meant for a 6-year-old. Dad's meticulousness made sure there were no leftovers of his papework. But what he hadn't taken into account was my younger self taking notes of my dad's calculations. Innocently pretending to be the scientist my dad was without knowing what I wrote.

Maybe it's time to understand what it is he's working on.

The excitement didn't end there for Peter Parker's life. By Monday, lunchtime at school, Harry shoved his phone at my face that I had to lean back to read the article of Stark's Youth Exhibition.

"Dude, aren't you excited? This is your chance to meet _The _Tony Stark!"

I would. I would be excited. But with the new vigilante activity and my grieve for Ben still aching, it was hard to get excited about anything. Harry looked bummed I wasn't as excited he imagined me to be. "Pete, come on, it's Tony Stark. You worship the guy. If you join this and get accepted, you might get a chance to breathe the same air as him."

"Technically, Harry, we all breathe the same-"

"You know what I mean, don't change the subject by talking science."

"Yeah, but what about you? Don't you hate him?"

Harry balked at the idea, "What? No! My father does. He thinks he's arrogant, smug, drunkard, and every bad word written in every language. Which makes him my personal hero."

"Right, right, but don't you want me to work in your future company or something?"

"Okay, first of all, just because I'm the son of Norman Osborn doesn't mean I'll automatically run the company. If Dad's nice enough he might give me some of his inheritance, but the company? I'll have to actually "prove" myself first, whatever that means. Second, even if the competition led you to work with Stark Industries, I'll just steal you back with the power of friendship."

I snorted out my drink and was stuck between laughing and hacking. "Oh Gee, Harry, that was so bad."

"Made you laugh though. So Peter, are you or are you not competing?"

I chewed my lips, hesitating. Any other day, I would jump at the chance, but there's so much change going on in my life, I don't know if I can take in more weight. "I don't know. Since Uncle Ben, I have a lot of responsibilities being the man in the house. Even if I do compete, I don't think I'll have the time to finish everything in time."

"What if you're in a team?" Gwen Stacy, Gwen Stacy! Gwen Stacy sidled up next to me like she did that every day. "They said one to four people can join to represent Midtown High, and I don't know about you, but I'm dying to be in that Expo."

It took me a few seconds before my brain rebooted, "Uhm, don't, don't you have your own friends you can work better with instead of me?"

"I thought about it, but I concluded that I like to work alongside you then working against you. Between Midtown's best and second-best together, there's no way we'll lose."

I couldn't help quirking up my lip, "Midtown's best, huh? Is that me or you?"

"Clearly, me," she answered confidently. Her blue eyes bore on me with a slight challenge.

"Really? Clearly?" I gave her a dubious smile, "Are you sure about that?"

She nodded with that smug yet cute smile of hers. It was a wonder why she hadn't had a boyfriend yet. How could anyone not smile at that? I'm not a heartless monster.

"So it's official, we'll be taking on the Expo together?"

I nodded, still tranced by her smile before it broke by her moving away. I blinked a couple of times, trying to remember what I did before I turned to find a smug-looking Harry. Unlike Gwen's, his smug smile is just shit-eating.

"What?"

"You just agreed to work with Gwen for the Expo."

I run that sentence in my head. Over and over until it finally broke the shred of obliviousness I had, and hitting me with e fact that'll spend four months together. Side by side. Just her and me. Together.

"I'm gonna barf."

"Not... the reaction I expect," Harry unhelpfully commented.

"Harry, listen, what are the chances I won't be embarrassing myself in front of her?"

Harry pretended to consider as he took his time munching his bread, "Considering your track record? Zero."

I groaned and I didn't care to have my face smush with the sorry-excuse-of-a-meal they called food. "Harry, you've got to join me for this group. I need you."

Harry shook his head, "And becoming a third wheeler? No chance in hell."

"How about as my wingman? Please, I can't do this alone. I messed up with her once already, I can't jeopardize this. I'm useless without you." Desperately, I used my wide, puppy dog eyes that I often use on Aunt May. She might be slightly immune to it by now, but my best friend hasn't been exposed to it yet to say no to my pleading face.

Harry sighed, and inwardly I crowed in victory, "Yes, yes, you are, Peter. Alright, fine. Just one more thing to add to piss off my dad, I suppose. As if he's not angry enough already."

"Why what happened?"

Harry's expression turned more solemn. He looked around for anyone who might be eavesdropping and beacon me closer, "You remember those spiders exhibited for the field trip? Well, one of them was stolen."

"Stolen?!" I was too in shock not to notice my pitch becoming suspiciously high.

"Yeah. It wasn't like the other spiders we had. Those three were like divas of spider experiments, something about revolutionizing the way we see genes or whatever. The point is; the spider got stolen, so now everyone's crazy about finding where it is."

"Why, why haven't they reported it or haven't it made the news already?"

Harry scoffed at the idea, "Because Dad cares about his reputation more. Having it known that Oscorp, one of the leading technological industries, was robbed isn't good for the big, strong image he's going for. So the investigation is private and hush-hushed."

"Have," I gulped, "Have they made any progress finding out who stole it?"

"An employee suspiciously disappeared on the same day, but I won't know since I'm not in the loop. I've only been hearing most of it from the grapevine. But I do know that whoever has it? My dad swore to mercilessly crush him."

I ate a spoonful of my "food" so I could contain my scream blissfully in my head.

* * *

**MiniDP: I like the beginning, but you only got him to break one bone.**

**Me: Of course, _that's_ where you hung up in.**

**MiniDP: Also, I thought you said you're going to respect all three spidermen? But as far as I can see, you rely mostly on the TASM reference**

**Me: Because of all the Movie!villains, Dr. Connors is the only obvious Begineer Villain for Peter! The Vulture Scenario only works after the Avengers, and the Goblin is too cool to be put as the first villain! Everyone knows he deserved the title of being his Arch-Enemy. I have grander plans for both of them. Plus, I'm not going to copy-paste the TASM, I have my very own twist plan for the Lizard.**

**Oh, and also because I love TASM!Flash. I have a thing for the Jock-Nerd friendship dynamic. There's no way I won't take aim for that potential between Flash and Peter. _VIVA LA CHARACTER GROWTH!_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

I put the camera down at my desk and set it to recording mode. It was another exhausting night out that I want nothing more than to rest, but being a man of my own word and a scientist at heart, I had to make this record log.

"Urgh-hum, this is Peter Parker logging in. I'm recording at my house about the progress of... wait for it…" I start clapping on my lap like a drumroll. "_Spider-Man_! I know. Pretty great name, right? A bit cliche but why mess with the classic, y'know? Enough about that. Day 2 in vigilantism and Day 1 of the Web-Shooter Project. Anyway, I used the garage to test the making of my web fluids. It's based on a liquid protein that strengthened the more it stretches, making it the love-child or rubber and steel.

"It took me about, oh, 124 tries or so to get the desired flexibility, tensile strength, disintegration rate, and stickiness. Not even my spider-strength can break it. I should know. I was forced to kiss my elbow when I accidentally caught in my own web." I snorted, briefly humoring my play of words. "Fortunately, I whipped out a quick web-dissolving fluid with one hand. You cannot imagine how awkward that was for me."

. . .

"Peter Parker logging in and it's Day 3 and I just spent most of my weekend googling the best flexible material I can find. Spandex being the number one option, but I'll need some modification to make it a bit battle-suit ready, plus make it part of my spider-theme. Note to self; have Aunt May teach me to sew."

. . .

"Day 4. Aunt May started interrogating me why I'm suddenly interested in both first aid and sewing. Maybe I should have gone for the tutorial videos instead, they ask fewer questions. Also, now she's thinking I'm trying to impress a girl with my ability to bandage people on the spot and make an embroidery handkerchief. I can't believe I didn't say I was trying to learn how to sew up my shirts like any normal, sane person. And do people even carry handkerchiefs anymore?"

. . .

"Peter Parker here again with a log of Day 7 on the doo-hickey. The shooter mechanism proves to be a lot trickier than the raw material itself. I had to consider adjusting the tensile strength based on how many pounds given to the electrode, the rate of fluid consumption, and looking cool while I fire my webs. It's mostly finding out how to keep the web in without bursting out and making a mess. This is still a prototype but check it out!"

I shot a web at one corner in my room with surprising precision that I didn't know I had. I looked back at the camera. The look I had on my face was the perfect picture of a mad scientist on the verge of a breakthrough. I giggled and began spouting more and more webs around my room. I shot my notebook next, pulling it in for me to grab before settling in my hand perfectly. My grin stretched further, excitedly, and tried aiming at the can of coke next, but it missed and hit the lamp instead. My reflex took over before my brain did and I was already pulling the lamp and hurtling right to my face.

Thankfully, I ducked and managed to avoid injury to the face. Not-so-thankfully to the resounding crash behind me, making me winced. But nothing can make me more terrified than the worried voice of Aunt May when she asked, "Peter, what was that?"

"Oh shi-" My eyes were blown wide and I went off-camera, "Nothing Aunt May, just… er… exercising!"

"Exercising? In your room? I bet you haven't cleaned your room to have enough space for that!"

"Oh ye little faith, May."

**. . . **

"Okay, Day 8 from Connor's internship—I mean, Peter Parker as Spider-Man. But either way, man working with Dr. Connors is everything I imagined to be. Seeing all the cool research and types of equipment I never even heard of. I learned a lot of things like his personal project. Dr. Connors has been researching cross-species genetics for decades that would create a serum curing any and all diseases, including disability. I'm not gonna lie, that is wickedly an ambitious goal. He didn't go for the cure cancer route like any other mainstream research. Nope, he went straight up '_Eradicate all diseases!_'

"He… he also mentioned Dad and his project too. Apparently, while both of them had the same ultimate goal, Dad's research has wider types of animal genes. Though the last Dr. Connors heard, he made a breakthrough from using spiders. There were promising results from the three spiders Oscorp showed off during the field trip and were actually my Dad's magnum opus in Oscorp. The project Dr. Connors is leading now. There were currently successful cross-species spiders that were bred from them.

"I asked him why he abandoned his own project for my Dad's and told me because his research was still ongoing and that he owed my dad to finish it now that he's gone. He… he said having his son finishing the project alongside me would be everything my dad wanted. Which… was… really… nice of him. I, I know this isn't a Spider-Man report or anything but… seeing as it involves Spider-Man's origin and my dad? I thought it's only proper for him to be a part of this record."

**. . . **

"Peter Parker on to Day 9 in web-shooting practice. I found out one of my spider's abilities is _not_ marksmanship. I do, however, have good hand-eye coordination so at least I am a quick learner. Plus, I've been trying to see if I can make my web moldable into any shape I want. You never know if it can be handy _aaaaand…_ _tadaa_!"

I show the record a spider-shaped sticky doll made entirely out of web.

"See, a spider web. Hehe. Get it? Because it's a spider made of web. Haaa… I'll stop talking now."

**. . . **

"Err...Spider-Man here. No, wait, Peter Parker. Anyway, this is Day 12 since I'm out in the street and I'm officially dead inside. Why am I even doing this again? I don't know if I'm cut out for superheroing."

"Okay, let me explain. Today was a total bust. The man I thought was stealing a car only forgot his key, which really was a giant embarrassment on my part. A girl I thought was getting kidnapped, turned out to be whining of going to ballet class. There was a hellish scream from an apartment where I crashed in, thinking something terribly violent was happening, only to find a guy standing on a sofa after finding a cockroach, at least he's grateful I killed it for him. Hopefully, he doesn't think Spider-Man is some kind of freelance exterminator. Then, there's had been a woman who I thought was being mugged had turned out to be… err… let's just say they were 'making out', which made it both awkward and embarrassing for both parties, though I have to say I'm concerned how unsanitary the place they were… err... doing it."

I sighed a tired sigh, "With how much I messed up, do I even get what it takes to be Spider-Man?"

**. . . **

"OMG, it's Day 13 and I got to meet, like, dozens of adorable puppies and they were all over me and had a massive hug-fest! So what happened was there was this middle-aged man that I helped move his stuff to this new apartment he got and it was littered with them. I spent half an hour basking in their slobber glory and he even offered me cookies and tea. I was surrounded by puppies as they nuzzled, licking, and played around, and… and... SPIDERMAN IS THE BEST THING EVER!"

**. . . **

"Peter Parker Day 15 just finished swinging around the ceiling of the warehouse and went straight to web-slinging outside. Not the best decision as you can see the nosebleed I'm having. Yeah, note to self, aim where you swing unless you want to get a faceful of billboard to break your nose. Good news, either my spider-enhanced healing really works wonders or my bone is just durable enough to only crack rather than break, considering spiders aren't supposed to have bone… so does that mean….

"I'm not sure if this is one science I want to pursue."

**. . . **

"Peter Parker. Day 18. Another day of swinging. Another day of epic web-failure. Note to self; carry extra web fluid at all times. You never know when you'll run out of one. There's never too many fluids, Parker. Or else I'll end up another unwanted dumpster dive and another fail video featuring you." I sighed, "You never forget your first meme, it's both be my best and worst day ever."

**. . . **

"What's up? What's up? This is Peter Parker logging in and this is Day 20. Check out my new suit! Ya like? Cause I do."

I backflipped and had the camera showed off the new and improved Spider-Suit, which was a red-blue lycra-spandex. A black spider symbol on the chest. One-way mirror lens that's really easy for my spider-sight, and web lining that emphasizes further of the Spider-theme.

"I've been swinging my newest web. Landing still needs working. You don't want to accidentally kick a pedestrian. Note to Brain, work on your momentum. Everything is in your momentum. Gosh, Pete. What are you an idiot? Swing like a man and work that hips so you don't lie to it… I'm not awake enough for this. I need my coffee. Where's my coffee?"

. . .

"Peter. B. Parker in the house, baby! Day 21 and I just got from Queens to Manhattan in under eight minutes. How awesome is that?! A little more practice, and I'll get there in five, maybe even three. This is gonna be great. It makes things so much easier. No more crashing through a stranger's backyard. No more property damage. And no more parkour for Parker!"

**. . . **

"Peter Parker. Day 22 but at 3 am and I want to announce that _BOOM_! These web-shooters are a total bomb. I'm never taking this off. I had the highest number of crooks put aside today. They were all 'give me your money' and I was all 'whoosh, hey stop that!' and then I went 'pew, pew' and _blam_! They were trapped. If I never knew Gwen, I would say I'm in love with it… Did I just admit in recorded evidence that I'm in love with Gwen Stacy? Hehehehe… oh my gosh, I need sleep."

**. . . **

"Day 26 in Peter Parker's records of Spider-Man progress… or rather a daily reminder to wear our new suit behind our clothes from now on and be mindful of any passerby when changing. I learned that the hard way when changing in an alleyway and… err… old lady pointed at me from her room and yelled out loud enough for a whole block to hear, at the least, about a naked pervert."

I looked away for a moment, and from the video, you can see the haunted look as the memory traumatized me.

**. . .**

"Peter Parker. Day 28 of Spider-manning. Let me tell you." There was a moment I hesitated as a pained look crossed my face. "This suit is not kind to my private area. Current priority number one: find something to lessen the chaff. Should maybe invest some baby powder."

**. . .**

"This is Peter Parker, and I'm... adjusting from my new schedule. Or more accurately my body is." I stretched my arm and there goes the pop in my body. "Anyway today is… What? Day… 29… 30… Sleep? What is sleep? Who needs it? _Sleep is but a momentary state of death as the world shifts through time._ I'll pull through with the power of… of… zzzzz…"

**. . . **

So a lot of things within the past 30 or so days of my life as Spider-Man. I got an internship with Dr. Connors, experimenting with the tool of trades, my erratic schedule as a superhero that kept me from my bed, then there's the Stark Project that me, Gwen, and Harry are working on.

The main theme of the Expo highlights along the lines of 'New, Innovative, and Sustainable'. In the first week, we spent time wasting papers just to come up with a good idea and stick to it. I came up with the idea of using diamond as an energy source. I put it in as a joke but there's actually legit science in putting pure carbon as alternative power source that can last at least a decade. Gwen, however, suggested a genetically altered tree that can glow in the dark at night which can help increase the use of trees instead of street lamps. However, we don't exactly have the resources to find the genes of a luminescent animal like a jellyfish nor a really good diamond with our high school budget.

It went on back and forth like that with us for hours, I forgot what I didn't agree with her just that it wasn't I could have put my all in the project. The same reason probably goes the same with Gwen, and she's relentless.

The one who settled the argument wasn't me or her, but surprisingly Harry as he got tired from our bickering, "Okay nerds, slow down, you're both overthinking this."

"Really?"

"Yes," Harry insisted, "You guys are too busy one-upping each other, thinking up the coolest and flashiest science project, you haven't thought of how it's going to win the Expo. I mean, Pete's idea is great but you gotta admit most people wouldn't use diamonds as a convenient energy source, I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure the input-output cost wouldn't sustain for its mass production. And Gwen's idea is no better, pretty as it sounds, I'm more than sure people are going to use it as a light show than alternative resource."

Gwen and I had to exchange unsure looks, seeing as there were little ideas that are better than what we currently have. "So, how do you think we should decide then?" Gwen asked him.

"Look, I may not be a scientist like my father is but what I do know is business, so consider Stark Industries' point of view. This Expo acts not only to, you know, support science and all that stuff, but it's also a publicity stunt for their new branding from being a weapon company to renewable energy, security, and advanced technology company."

"That… makes sense, but what does it have to do the competition?"

"It has everything to do with the competition. If you're going to change your brand, you want the company to start marketing technologies that create the new image you wanted. Which according to the theme, renewable energy… stuff, apparently. Anyway, it's not easy to erase decades worth of marketing weapons? You need an actual product to showcase that new image, even better if you can mass produce it in a year's time."

"Do Stark really need that? I don't think he has an image problem with him being Iron Man and a genius billionaire."

"Which both can turn the company for better and worse," Harry argued, "Remember, Stark is the CEO but the board shares interest in the company too. Their lives are kind of dependent on how much money they make. And an ex-weapon company that stops making weapons with a human weapon as CEO makes them look hypocritical. Other companies might pressure them to make private weapons instead of military weapons and we'll have another case of Obadiah Stane on the board, that's how critical an image problem is. With the Youth Exhibition, not only would you find potential employees, but it will publicize the kind of tech Stark Industries will start supporting.

"Unlike Tony Stark and my dad, they are scientist-slash-businessman, they don't need support from companies to realize and patent their work. But other people need support. Science research isn't cheap, y'know. So they'll flock to the expos like moths to a flame and companies would be wrestling for the best invention they can buy, support, and make money out of. It's not a stretch to say that the competition would have more or less the same parameter."

"You seem… very informed and invested in this, Harry."

He sighed, the irritation in his tense shoulder relaxes, "Blame my Dad, he's obsessed with Stark and trying hard to either ignore or destroy the guy and he mumbles aloud a lot. He can be the most insecure guy when he's not the most powerful or the richest in the room."

"Err, so what do you think we should do?"

"My advice? Don't make a complicated, one of a kind, tech. Just make something interesting that a lot of people can use and feel the effect. Because a scientist might care about being able to bring new rocks from other planets, it's impressive, but normal people won't care unless it makes things easier or better for them. And sometimes… you can be surprised, the simple little things usually have the biggest impact."

"You say that but it's not like it's giving us any-" I cut myself off as an idea did hit me. Gwen and Harry leaned in a bit from my expression.

Quickly, I pulled out another paper and started scratching out a draft of designs, diagrams, and theories before having them take a look at it. I'm glad my writings weren't the usual chicken scratch so Gwen had no problem reading it, "That's… actually good. Really good. Not complicated as Harry said but it's innovative and could potentially save lives." She turned to Harry, looking impressed, "Looks like it's good to have a businessman on the team."

My best friend blushed but tried to play her off, "It's nothing. Being the son of a multinational corporation gotta rub off on me a little."

"Harry, don't downplay your skill. Just because you're not a scientist, doesn't mean you won't make a great businessman like your dad."

Harry smiled, grateful, but his eyes showed the little self-esteemed he had. Considering the high-expectations I've watched Mr. Osborn pressured him, it's no wonder he reacts that way. Looks like our science group is helping him as much as it's helping us.

After a late meeting late until evening, the three of us went out for Joe's Pizzeria. On the way, Harry was no-so-casually reminding us, "So… the Homecoming Dance is only three days away, do the both of you have any dates yet?"

I had to bite my lips from groaning aloud. In a way, I did ask for this when I reasoned Harry to join the Science Group as a wingman. I just hope this doesn't blow up in my face.

Gwen had no reservation answering him, "Nope. Flash made it a point to let everyone know he was going to ask me so none has come forth to 'challenge' him. No one seemed to consider I might reject him to actually ask me yet. What about you two?."

"I did," Harry smiled a bit smugly, "I'm going out with Liz Allen."

"No way, you got a date with a senior? How come you never told me?"

"I just asked her today, Pete. Don't get your pants to twist."

"But… but… how did you ask her? I mean, how do you know she's going to say yes when you asked?"

Harry's lips slyly curved up and elbowed me, "What's this? Are you asking me for dating advice because you haven't had a date?"

By this point, we already took our seats and ordered our food. "Really, Peter? You haven't asked anyone yet?"

"Err… well… didn't really have the time after everything that's been going on. I honestly forgot about it until the school started putting up banners."

Gwen hummed, smiling as she nodded, which got me freak because what does it even mean? Is she humming like she understood? Or humming in like a mocking way? Is she humming because I look silly or cute? Is it good humming or bad humming?

_What does the humming mean?! _

"Well, to answer your question, Peter, my solemn brother." Harry finally answered. "Is that I didn't. We've only ever known each other from a mutual club, and I think she's pretty, great, and…" Harry blushed a bit, "...nice. So when we crossed paths during lunch, I just asked, she said yes, and the rest is history."

Harry was pointedly looking at me, I tried avoiding his glance but ended up gazing at Gwen's striking blue eyes instead. She smiled when I did. I smiled back. And nothing was said as we just smiled without looking away from each other. I could have stayed there in that moment, just gazing at her eyes that glittered as much whenever she solved a difficult problem, her grin that brightens the day whenever she laughed at one of my jokes, her nose and how she scrunched them when she felt anything distasteful, or the pretty pink blush like she currently has.

Plates and drinks were placed on the table, breaking the moment (or whatever it is that happened). Suddenly, Harry got up and shouldered his bag, "Wow, sorry guys. My dad just texted me and needed me home early."

"But… Harry. The food just got here?" Gwen protested.

"Don't worry, I didn't order anything anyway, just eat without me, bye guys!"

My senses - and not my spidey-sense, mind you - told me there was something more in his agenda, especially when he hadn't even ordered anything. My suspicion was confirmed when my phone vibrated from a text by Harry. I read it under the table.

'_Good luck on your date, Pete!'_

My eyes bulged out, and quickly made a quick text: '_What? No! Come back!_'

'_Don't forget to ask her out for the dance.'_

'_Don't do this to me, Harry.'_

'_I'm doing this for you.' _

'_Harry, I swear, I'm going to kill you.'_

'_Harry.'_

'_HARRY!'_

_[This number has blocked you]_

That _sonnova- _"Fuck."

Gwen looked up, confused, "What?"

"I, err, I, I mean, fine. This food..." I took a giant bite of my sandwich and swallowed it, "This food tasted fine. Joe usually tasted a bit bland for me." I crossed my arms then, in the hope of looking casual, but then I was faced with the problem of trying to dislodge my arm since my stupid spider-powers can't tell the difference between my nerves and life-and-death situations.

"Okay. You just… sounded tense for a bit there."

"Oh, I'm always a bit tense around you." Did I seriously just say that?

Tell me, I did not say that.

Harry, I will kill you for this.

Gwen tilted her head, eyebrows shot up, "Really? Is there a reason why you would be?"

_This is it. This is my chance to ask her. _My hands tightened around my phone (and was careful not to break it again), reminded of Harry's words.

"Gwen, the thing is, there's, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

She leaned closer and asked almost in a whisper, "What is it?"

"Err, I…" I licked my lips, ready to pop the question when like a douse of cold water, there was the screeching of tires and blare of sirens that interrupted us. The window of the shop briefly showed the car chasing scene passing by us. My hand fell limply to the side, and there was no excuse for me not to go out.

"What's going on?" Gwen asked, concern laced in her tone.

Joe shrugged from the counter but answered, "Apparently the radio said there was a jewelry robbery. Couple of guys would have gotten caught if they hadn't had a hostage, and now they're in a car chase."

"Sorry, Gwen." I got up, my backpack already packed, "I, I just remembered… EGGS! Aunt May wanted me to buy eggs for her. I'm so sorry, but I've got to go. It was good talking with you, _seeyoutomorrowbye_!"

"Wait, Peter, you barely ate your…" But I was gone and didn't hear the rest of her sentence, already running into the nearest alley. Pulling off my shirt, pants, and shoes and shoved them into my bag. Throwing it over my head and shot a web to it so it would stick high on the wall. Now there'd be less chance of it getting stolen, once was enough for me already.

"Okay, okay, time to put your game face on." I leap from one wall to another, and by the time I was high up into the night sky. New York's horizon reflected on my bug-eye lens; the blinking artificial lights, the hustle and bustle movements between buildings, the skyscrapers begging for me to use as my personal jungle gym.

I spotted the lines of red-and-blue siren lights in a speeding car chase. I shot my web, and let gravity pull my fall as I swung, the air rushing against my suit as the momentum took me back up, and I was shouting out in exhilaration. A moment I was at my highest from the beating adrenaline in my veins and being suspense in the air with nothing at all tying me up or down before I began to twist, flip, and shootmy next strand of white string.

But the excitement was cut short when I noticed a motorcycle had skidded away from the robber's car and was thrown off like a sack of potatoes, and the motorcycle itself was about to hit a lone pedestrian. Everything seemed to pause in a slow-motion as it occurred to me how to prevent two heavily injured people.

My brain went overdrive as I examined the problem and calculated a solution. Just like any other test. No biggie. A deadly, life-threatening, test. But a test, all the same.

Web-string shoots out and sticks to the second pedestrian before getting rammed by an out of control motorcycle. And I backflipped, landed, and caught the first civilian in my arm. All the while I had the second pulled to my side. Resulting in the picture of me carrying two men in my arms.

After putting them down on their feet, apologizing and suggesting they go on a date to compensate the night, then I was off to my chase. (Weeks later, there would be a viral story of a couple getting together after getting saved by Spider-Man at the same time. But, sadly, I will never know.)

I landed on the roof of the car, crawled my way to the side, and politely knocked on their window. The crook was highly focused on the road despite their atrocious driving, but he did take a double-take finding a masked man hanging upside down. I'm not an expert on lip-reading, but I can vaguely guess he was saying _what the fuck?! _

Quite rude of him, the least they could do is open the window for me.

But then I took a glimpse of the back seat and saw the second crook was pointing a gun at a civilian woman.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Joe did say they had a hostage but do they have to bring her with them?!

The driver swerved to the side, and I would have been flattened against the building if I hadn't leaped up and caught the lamp post. "Okay, calm down, Peter, they have guns and a hostage. Not a good combination, but you can do this." I shot a web and continued following them with a plan… most of a plan… something of a plan forming in my head.

I jumped back on the car, inwardly saying sorry, I gripped the gap of the door and wrenched out of its hinges. Then threw it up and let it hang on the nearest lamp post so it wouldn't hit anyone before leaping inside to a couple of shock terrified faces, "Hey, sorry about the door. Wouldn't be safe breaking your window, the shards are nasty to get off."

The man aimed the gun at me and I was like "Nope" and shot a web at it. Not expecting the web, he looked strangely at it. I took that moment to blind his eyes next. Sufficiently distracted, I pulled the woman in my arms. She briefly screamed as I leaped back out from the car and safely out of reach.

I know my mask isn't actually the friendliest looking, but does she have to scream that much?

"What?" She asked, breathly. Realization dawn that she was out of danger, "How? Who?"

I smirked a bit at her reaction, "Just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man ma'am."

I shot my web and the chase was on again.

This time, they were quite prepared because the driver started shooting at me on sight. It was hard maneuvering mid swinging while trying to dodge the bullets but it was doable.

"Yo, keep your eyes on the road! You would've hit somebody!" A web latched onto the gun and I pulled it out of his hand. "And no shooting!" I crushed the hateful thing with my grip and pounced.

Flipping sideways, I aimed the webs at the car tires. The abrupt car stop didn't stop the force, making the car swerved left and right before it tilted sideways. There was metal screeching, a man screaming, and sparks flying.

I was already in its path and held it back by its hood. Holding it back until it doesn't look like it wants to crash into a wall. I then tilted the car upright, pulled the door on the driver's side, and checked the vitals of a lump unconscious figure. "And this is why you must always wear your seatbelt at all times ladies, gents, and crooks."

The second man still blinded from my webs tried getting out of the car, hopelessly trying to escape until I webbed his feet, and he came falling down on his face.

I examined my handiwork and nodded in satisfaction, "Well, that was easy. Now let's tie them up for the proper authority-" Goosebumps ran all over me as my spidey-sense tingle. Immediately, I ducked just as the second guy started shooting. I turn to find he was on his bare feet and his face red and bleeding from forcibly ripping the web before it deteriorates. He can still shoot since I stupidly webbed the muzzle instead of the trigger. My webs may be harder to shred, but the small ones are easier to tear.

"Eew, that's nasty. You might want better skincare to fix that."

"Shut up, bug, or I'll make you shut up!" He shot me again, but the guy didn't think things through because he was already running out of ammo.

"Whoops, looks like you're out of juice already." I shot a web, but he was lucky enough to dodge, tracking my webs that spells more trouble than it looks. "Maybe you should…" I pulled myself and landed a kick on his torso, "...count your shots…" He tried getting up, but I web his back, reeling him in. "...before wasting them." A nice gentle hit on the back of his head was enough to knock him out.

Checking that he's finally down for the count, I whooped, "Score! Spider-Man, two; bad guys, zero! Uh-huh, oh-yeah, who's badass, that's right, it's me." I'll deny this to my dying breath, but yes; I did dance at the spot. Doing the Egyptian style, a nice disco swing, a little bit of hand wave, and twisting my hips to the rhythm of a song in my head.

I turned and froze as a single pedestrian was watching; eye wide, and his cigarette dangerously burning near his finger as he gawked. I was silent. He was silent. We were left staring at one another with the most awkward tension in the air ever conceived tonight.

Casually as I could, I stood straight and tried coughing professionally. "It's alright, Sir. I have everything under control. You're safe," I said with a deeply faux voice.

"Yeah…" he drawled. Looking back and forth between the unconscious men and the spandex-wearing twerking-man who managed to wrap them all up. "You're not going to rob me or anything, are you? Because I got _nada_."

"What?! No, urgh. Why do most people think I'm going to hurt them. Can't they see I'm the good guy? Look! I beat the bad guys. I bet the Fantastic Four or Iron-Man don't have this problem, so why me?!"

"I mean other than the creepy mask, people don't really know you or anything, so…" The guy shrugged but it says enough.

"Well, excuse you, but it's not like I can just campaign myself-" A eureka moment suddenly struck me and studied the man back. "Hey, by any chance, do you have a pen and paper I can use?"

**. . .**

"_A shocking news, last night, a couple of robbers had robbed a jewelry store and escaped with a hostage. Police had been in pursuit when they came upon the same criminals hanging on a lamppost, with a handwritten note in the middle saying: _'Stolen jewels return. The webs will last for an hour, courtesy of your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man_', complete with a spider doodle at the right-down corner as a signature."_

On any other day, my actions making the local news and going viral on the media would have been a reason to celebrate. Instead, I sighed for the _n_th time, thinking back of the botched dinner and my failure in asking Gwen out.

"What's wrong, Peter?" Aunt May asked as she gave a plate of her homemade wheat-cakes. It's like pancakes with wheat, not the best-tasting food but you either eat them or miss them. "You seemed down."

I sighed, "It's nothing, Aunt May."

"Oh, I know that sigh," MJ said beside me, as May gave her share of the plate, "That's his girl problem sigh, it's been a while since I hear that, alright Petey, who is she?"

"MJ," I said warningly.

"Come on, it's us you're talking here. And don't tell me you haven't been trying to ask advice on asking her out because if you didn't need us, you wouldn't be girl-problem-sighing."

Urgh, she got me there. "Fine, fine. Her name's Gwen and she's… she's… really great. She's enthusiastic about science, always upfront with her opinion, never tolerates anything wrong, and she's kind enough to give people second chances. She's… she's Gwen… and I want to, to, to ask her _tothedancewithme_." I said that with a hand on my face, trying hard and failing to hide my blush.

"Wow," said MJ, looking speechless but not, "You got it bad."

"And she sounds like such a nice lady," Aunt May agreed.

"Damn, and I've been betting you and Harry would get together."

I glared at MJ, to which she looked up with her big "innocent" green eyes, "So, I said my piece, how do I get her to say yes?"

"That's easy, just ask," MJ pointed out like it's the easiest thing to do.

"What?"

"MJ's right, Darling. If she's as nice as you said, I'm sure she wouldn't mind being your date."

MJ snorted, "If she's as smart as you said, then yeah she will."

"But, but, what if she said no?"

"_Urgh_, for being the smartest kid in the room, you sure can be a dolt. You can't always be 100% certain with this type of thing. You either do or don't. Ask or don't ask. It all relies on taking a leap of faith, not knowing what's going to happen but seeing through it to the end."

"...MJ, did you just paraphrase Yoda?"

She rolled her eyes and smacked me the back of my head.

Aunt May looked at the time and urged us to quickly pack our bags and leave, but as I started locking the doors. I can still hear the whirling TV as the reporter about to end the interview with the only witness to the newest vigilante on the street.

"_After everything is said and done, what do you think of this… Spider-Man?"_

"_An idiot." He answered, promptly, "But an idiot that's trying to keep our street safe so Spider-Man, whoever you are, good luck out there… and you owe me a new pen!" _

**. . . **

At school, I made a beeline to Gwen once I spotted her. Gathering the courage I built up from the bus ride just for this one moment.

_Come on, Parker. You beat bad guys before bed, outswing a speeding car, and jump off buildings like a pro… yet I'm still more nervous for this. _

"Gwen!" I called her out.

She turned back and smiled, "Peter, what–"

"Before you say anything," I cut her off, "There's something I need to ask of you."

Her eyes widened at my unexpected proclamation, before grinning wide but a tad bit nervous from my point of view, "Yeah," she said.

"Would, would you, err, would you go… to the dance…"

"Yeah."

"...with me, wait, what?"

"Yes, I'll go to the dance with you." She answered, and is it just me or did she sound just as excited?

My mouth couldn't seem to decide whether to drop or close. A feeling of incredulity inside me before being replaced by awe and excitement. "Cool… cool, cool, so err, I'll pick you up at seven then?"

"Sure, I'll be waiting. Hope you have a white tie, it matches my dress."

"Awesome, then I'll see you…" Gwen turned her back, off to her class, but I didn't miss the smile she sent me as I waved at her, "...later."

Vaguely, I hear the school bell ringing. But even my new sharper sense did not register it as more as background noise as I was rooted on the spot with a daydreaming face. My reverie was broken by the sudden tackle from behind from a traitor of a friend.

"Alright, Peter! You got yourself a date."

"Yeah, no thanks to you," I playfully shoved him away.

"Oh, come on, that was totally because of me."

"Actually, it was mostly Aunt May and MJ's influence. You were just being a dick."

"Speaking of her, when will you ever introduce me to that friend of yours. I always hear about MJ from you but I never get to meet her."

I paused from our walk to class and thought back to his words, "Huh, you're right. I guess it just never came up. How about next time we hang out at my place and I introduced her to you."

"And finally meet this mysterious lady friend of yours, you can count me in."

* * *

**MiniDP: There's so much bullshit in this, I can smell it.**

**Me: If comic books can bullshit than so can I!**

**MiniDP: The fact you're so riled up because of minuet details accuracy is hilarious**

**Me: I can't help it. There are so many things that I didn't put enough research, I'm bothered that it's somehow not good enough or blatantly false. I'm so sorry that I'm not good enough!**

**MiniDP: Drama Queen**

**Me: Oh, and you guys might be wondering if Liz Allen is here, then does that mean that the Homecoming Plot and the Vulture don't exist? Well... I'll integrate the Homecoming Plot with my universe, the Vulture will be present at that point, but I'm going to use another character that's not Liz Allen. Sorry for all of you Liz Fans. But when the Homecoming Plot starts rolling, there'll be extra villains coming into the mix.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

-"Give me the goods!"

"I told you like a billion times, man, we don't have it!"

"Don't lie to my face! Do you see this gun, huh? You see it? You tell me where it is if you know what's good for you?!"

"Please don't hurt us. Please, please don't hurt us," the lady employee trembled as she pleaded.

"If you don't want a bullet in your head, you better get what me and my boys want."

"Err," the clerk voiced out, "I'm sorry, but what boys?"

"Are you blind, huh? Are you making fun of me? I'm talking about my boys right here–" he turned and found the encompassing dining hall empty of his friends. He briefly thought they chickened out, but then there was an odd squirming sound from somewhere, and it took some weird compulsion inside for him to look up. When he did, his jaw dropped at the sight of the bound three men sticking on the ceiling.

"Excuse me." Someone poked his shoulder from behind. He turned, gun raised, but I plucked it out of his hand before he so much as pulled the trigger and deftly crushed it like a can of soda. "Not cool, dude. This is no way to order fast food."

"Who the hell are you?" He didn't wait for my answer as he swung a punch at me, which I easily caught.

"I mean, I know lines can be a drag." I shot a line at a chair behind. "But I think you need to sit down." Pulled the chair, forcibly sitting the man down. "And chill." Then webbing his arms and feet in place.

"What? _What?! _" He looked down at his tied arms and tried to forcibly rip it out but to no avail. "What the hell is this gunk?'

"Excuse you, this gunk is a scientific novelty that took all my heart and soul to make. Don't you diss on them."

"I don't care, get me out of this thing!"

"Hmm," I pretend to contemplate his demand, "I might... after you apologize for trying to steal money earned by these nice, hardworking people you rudely threatened."

"What?" I was prepared for the usual slight or refusal, but not what he said next: "Why would I want to steal some stupid money, man? I want my chicken sandwich."

There was a brief moment where my brain had a long time processing his words, and a little T-Rex threatened to pop out in my head, telling me there's no connection. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard, did you say you broke in and threatened a fast food joint… to demand fast food?"

"Yeah," he said like I was the dumb one.

"Can't… can't you just buy one?"

"Dude, where have you been? Don't you know their new chicken sandwiches? It's been on the rage. We've been trying to buy one for weeks, but they're always 'sold out'" His hand was tight, yet I could tell his effort to air quote.

"But it is sold out!" The clerk said.

"Don't lie to me, man! You guys are hogging all the sandwiches for yourself and selling them to the wealthy. My boys and I will not stand for this oppression! You can hide from us all you want, but we have a right for our sandwiches."

I waited very patiently for the punchline, but the guy was deadly serious. A massive headache was hitting me like a sled-hammer that has nothing to do with my Spidey-Sense.

"Alright, I heard enough." I webbed his mouth shut before anything more he said could lower the collective IQ in this room. I turned to the employees and asked them, "Are you guys okay?"

The single girl in the group began to burst out into an uncontrollable cry. While I had my fair share of dealing with crying victims, I never stopped flailing my way to keep her calm.

"Don't worry," the clerk said, way too calmly if you ask me, "This is Gina's first armed robbery, she'll get used to this."

That only made her cry harder.

"Err… should I be worried?"

"Nah, man," said the third gangly employee, "One time, I had to serve a drive-thru meal for a getaway car, he had his gun trained on me and everything. It was wicked."

"And you all still work here…. Why?"

"Money." The three of them answered.

I nodded dumbly as if agreeing there weren't any other sensible answers. "Well, I gotta go. Call the police straight away, my webs would only last for an hour." I began walking out, leaving them for the authorities to handle, but then I heard my name being called out.

"Wait!" I turned, not at all expecting the teared-face lady to run out for me. "Sorry, sorry, I, I wanted, needed to say thank you. I couldn't imagine what might happen if you…. you…." Tears welled up in her eyes before she bawled out once more.

I shushed her gently, "Hey, hey, it's okay. It's over now. You're safe." I was surprised by the act, but softly reminded the girl she was okay while rubbing her back in circle.

"I'm, I'm sorry," she hiccuped, "It's just, they had guns, and they were waving it at us, and, and… I just want to say thank you, Spider-Man."

I blushed behind my mask and tried to wave them off like it's nothing. My body jittering from the compliment. Most of the people I saved either ran, screamed, and broke down crying. But the few who stayed? The few who gave their thanks? It was so rarely presented that I always feel like I don't deserve it.

"Aaw, it's nothing."

"But it's not, so I thought you deserve this for today." She pulled open her handbag that she brought, and then showed me a bag of wrapped burger inside. It didn't take me long for me to connect the dots. "While their 'conspiracy' is over-exaggerated, the employees here do get to first come first serve. This is my share, take it."

"Oh, no, you don't have to."

"I _insist." _She practically shoved, what I expect, the infamous fast food to me. "So this is the sought-after chicken sandwich," I said, dubiously, as I unwrapped it and found a totally normal-looking sandwich.

The lady-employee, who I read the nametag was Gina, shot me an almost pitiable look. "Bless you, you still haven't known the miracle of our chicken."

Okay, now she's just exaggerating, "Come on, Gina." I pulled up my mask, ready to take the first bite. "It's a chicken sandwich, just how good do you think it'll-"

But then I took the first bite, all I knew afterward was the taste of juicy bliss filling my mouth, and I swear I heard Beethoven coming down from the heavens and playing _Ode to Joy_.

**. . . **

"Peter, hurry up, or you're going to be late!"

"Be right down, Aunt May!" I took double steps down the stairs and nervously showed her the tux I'm wearing.

She scrutinized me, looking up and down before tutting at me, "Your tie is a disaster."

I looked down at myself and frowned, "What, really? I could have sworn I followed the Youtube video to the letter."

She tusked playfully before beginning to fix my tie with deftly practiced hands. Once done, she smoothed down the wrinkles of my blazer. "You look just like Ben when he was your age," she said as May looked down at me from a distance.

Noticing her glassy eyes, my own eyes turned teary and promptly pulled her into a hug. "I miss him too, Aunt May."

I knew May kept her hug tied so I wouldn't see her breaking down and only let go once she managed to gain her bearing. "Right, let's take you to that girl of yours!"

My face turned red as my mask, "She's, she's not my girl. I mean, I hope she is but, but I haven't asked her out, officially, that is."

"I'm sure she'd be lucky to have you such a nice man like you taking you out, Peter."

Aunt May drove me to Gwen's apartment, and I asked her, "May, hypothetically speaking, if you have a secret. A really big secret that you're hiding from someone you really, really like, and I want to tell her… or him! I mean her, I mean…"

"Calm down, Peter. This is all 'hypothetical, right?"

I nodded too fast and too vigorous even though a voice in my head told me I only looked all the more suspicious that way.

May smiled indulgently all the same and put a hand on my shoulder, rubbing her thumb in circle, and the calm instantly washed over me. "So hypothetically speaking, I would think you need to trust her not to tell anyone first. Just because you… I mean… 'you' like her doesn't mean she can keep a secret. But if you trust her, then I say there's no problem sharing… unless it's a problem?"

"No, no, not a problem. Not at all. Just… I don't want to make things weird between us."

"If she's as nice as you describe her, then she would accept you no matter what." I considered her words even as I couldn't stop biting my lips in worry, not when May had no idea what secret I was talking about. "Remember, any relationship-even friendship will break if it's based on lies, so if you can't tell her the truth, at least be truthful of your feelings and your situation to her."

I nodded, "Right, thanks, Aunt May."

"Why should you, it's all hypothetical, isn't it?" She winked at me before turning back to the road.

Once we arrived, there was a moment I froze up by the entrance while being glared by this scary-looking doorman, and you know it takes a lot to scare me when I beat up crooks for a living. Eventually, he let me in once he knew the Stacys were waiting for me. If that hadn't been nerve-wracking, having the door opened by none other than George Stacy. And if the doorman's eyes were scary, it was nothing when glared at by one of the Captains of New York's Finest.

When I asked out Gwen, I apparently did not think things through.

"You must be Peter," he began.

"Yes, Peter, Peter Parker," I gulped and took his offered hand, giving a firm shake, "Nice to meet you, Sir."

He crossed his trained muscles that seemed to make them bulge, shoulder set wide, and his deep crinkle set - of what I swore - of his cop eyes were trained down onto me. And it's like looking at a predator where you can't walk away less he'll pounce on you. "Tell me, Peter, what are your intentions for my daughter?" His voice became octave lower, and his glare became more intense, I didn't know why but the wrinkles somehow became prominent as if showing the years in the force that etched on his face.

The lighthearted laughter broke our face-off, "Oh my gosh, DAD! That is such a cliche line, what century are you even in?"

The grimmy look of his melted away as the icy tension we had, replaced by the soft laughter that put a more cheerful crinkle on his face, making him years younger "What? Was that too much? I'm pretty sure it's tradition for the dad to scare off any boys my baby girl brings."

I couldn't help the broken laughter that came out from the intense relief I felt.

"At least you didn't go and threatened him with your gun." Gwen went out of her room, and she wore a knee-length white dress that basically makes her an angel. "I would have slapped you for that."

"Fair enough, anyway, once again, great to finally meet you, Peter. Gwen talks a lot about you." His smile turned sly as he turned to his daughter, "Been curious what type of person special enough to make my girl excited all night."

"DAD!"

George Stacy boomed a heavy laughter, "I'm just messing with you, kiddo. Come on, let me take a picture of the two of you. Otherwise, your mum would give me an earful."

I walked next to Gwen and gave her the white corsage. The smile she had then could rival the sun, and I was sure my smile couldn't have been that different.

"Kids, if you're done making googly-eyes at one another." Mr. Stacy's tone was stern, but there was no hiding the mirth in his eyes.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." We stood side by side for the shoot, and I wasn't sure whether it was okay or not to put my hand around her waist because is that okay? I don't know if that's okay? You know what, let's not touch her in any way until I actually ask, especially in front of her dad.

Before I knew it, he took the photo, and we were then off to the prom. Mr. Stacy kindly offered to drive us using one of their unmarked police cars the Captain still had on hand, and though it didn't look the part, it was still cool to be inside an actual police car. Gwen just looked embarrassed in being taken in one, much to her dad's delight.

"So, Peter," Mr. Stacy started tapping his steering wheel, "Hope you don't mind me asking what your plans are in the future?"

"Really, Dad? That's the first thing you wanted to start grilling him?" Gwen couldn't seem to decide to glare or roll her eyes at him.

"Hey, I'm just making small talk. Time can pass by awfully fast, so it's never too early to plan your future. Even Gwen's been planning to be a prominent geneticist. Has been setting her eyes on either Oscorp or Horizon." There was a proud smile in his tone that I couldn't imagine even without the car mirror.

"Well, Sir, I'm hoping for the same thing. I haven't made up my mind where I want to work. I mean, most of them have their perks, and they all have cool scientists working for them."

"Peter," Gwen giggled, "You make it sound like you're trying to choose which one has your favorite celebrity that you want to work with."

Mr. Stacy chuckled, "No worries, Peter. There are worse reasons to join a sought-out company. Though, I shouldn't be surprised my daughter would go out with someone who actually can keep up with her brain."

Gwen blushed, then she had a teasing grin aimed at her father, "You were wishing for a fellow future officer, weren't you? Hoping for more recruits in your effort for a Spider-Man Crusade."

My heart practically jumped at the mention of the name and tried very hard to keep myself cool, "Spi, Spider-Man? What about him?"

Not realizing the sudden panic that threatened to break out in me, Mr. Stacy answered, "Oh, it's not much, my precinct has been trying to build a case for him to be put on the wanted person list,"

"Why? What has he done? I thought he's a good guy?"

"That's where the media misunderstood. That man is not only an amateur but reckless, clumsy, and doesn't know half of what he's doing. At the rate he's going, he'll start injuring himself as well as civilians. Heck, he's already assaulted an officer."

"You mean being harmlessly webbed in the face that eventually dissolves in an hour?" Gwen calmly pointed out a rebuttal, "You know you can't technically arrest someone unless there's a law against webbing someone that I haven't heard about."

"He does if he disturbed a police investigation."

"And the boot got webbed because he tried shooting an unarmed man. I think Spider-Man saved that rookie's job."

"Urgh, this is what I get for having a brilliant daughter. She knows how to make a point." Mr. Stacy tried to keep the air light, but my ears barely heard him from the loud drumming at the back of my head. "It still impedes the officer's performance on duty. And even if it's harmless, it doesn't change the fact that Spider-Man is dangerous," Mr. Stacy insisted.

"But, but why?" I asked, genuinely confused for being seen in the wrong. I can understand from civilians' point of view who might be scared from the adrenaline and the sudden appearance of a masked vigilante in the dead of night, but surely there's no law against helping people. "From what I've seen, I say most people would say Spider-Man is trying to do the right thing."

Mr. Stacy scoffed, "The right thing? If he's trying to do the right thing, he should have called the authorities instead of seeking trouble and taking the law into his own hands. We could already arrest him for alleged assaults and property damages."

"But technically, even if you arrest Spider-Man. He still has the Good Samaritan Law on his side to defend himself in court. Not to mention, the city nor the crooks haven't pressed any charges to him." Gwen sing-song, smirking at the frustrated sight of her father. As if this is an age-old conversation they like to raise on the dinner table.

"Oof, Gwendolyn, you're hurting your old man here, my own daughter against me. I'm glad you're trying to be a scientist instead of a lawyer."

She rolled her eyes, "Don't be dramatic, Dad. I'm just stating the fact that Spider-Man hasn't broken any serious laws for you to treat him like a felon."

"_ Yet _. He hasn't broken any laws yet. But mark my words one of these days, he will. And he can't skirt around forever."

"You can't know that," I said, my voice a bit heated, "No one can know whether he'll break the law or not."

"All I'm saying is that he already screws up our plan to bust a major chop-shop operation that's been stealing cars in Queens. If not for this Spider-Man, who caught us the only lead we had."

"Well, obviously, he didn't know you had a plan."

The car stopped at a red light, and Mr. Stacy dared to turn to face me, "You know, you sound oddly defensive for this Spider-Guy, do you know something we don't?"

"No!" I vehemently denied, "I'm just saying from what I've witnessed on the internet, we should give him the benefit of the doubt."

Mr. Stacy scoffed, "I'm sure the internet is making him out to be some kind of masked hero. You know, if he's trying to be a hero, he should be trying to earn a badge, standing on the side of law and order, rather than gaining street cred from his mask."

Wow, OK Boomer to you too, Mr. Stacy. "From what I'm hearing, you just don't like him wearing a mask despite helping people, and there's no law against that. I don't think you like the idea of him trying to do what the police can't."

"What the police can't- what do you think the police can't do?! You think that we're sitting on our desk and eating donuts all the time? You think he can do better than us?"

"I think he stands what you stand for, Sir." I tried reigning the conversation into a much calmer ground, "Protecting innocent people, and it's something I wished my uncle had before he was gunned down in my own home."

The conversation stopped cold with my words, and I had to bite my tongue before I made things worse for myself. Oh, God, why can't I keep my mouth shut for once?! I'm practically picking a fight with Gwen's father. She's going to hate me now.

Static came from the radio, and the voice of the operator broke the brief silence.

[_ Calling all available units, there's a hostage situation at the Foundry on 9th Street. Suspect is considered armed and dangerous. Requesting back-up and airship. Code three.] _

Mr. Stacy didn't even hesitate before he pulled out his radio and answered, "This is Seven-Adam-Fifteen. Ten-Four. Responding."

Gwen began shuffling, uneased, "Dad…" There was an argument ready, at the tip of our tongue, I could always tell from the tone of hers, but her dad cut her off.

"Here we are, at the end of the line."

I almost jumped when the car stopped, never realizing we had been close to our destination. The car ride felt shorter than it was supposed to.

I gave a short quick thank you and practically fled from how fast I got out of the car. Gwen followed suit, and Mr. Stacy rolled down the window, so she could give him a quick kiss goodbye.

Not wanting to leave our conversation end with a wrong note, I gathered my Spidey-courage and cleared my throat, "Sir, I apologize, I don't mean to bring disrespect after you kindly gave us a ride."

"Peter, listen," Mr. Stacy started, he paused for a bit, giving out a tired sigh before continuing, "I didn't say this before, but I'm sorry about your uncle. I stand by what I said about Spider-Man, but I should have considered your point of view without being so dismissive. Sometimes people just need a hero, even from the unlikeliest place. I shouldn't begrudge you for hoping that.

"Anyway, putting aside everything said, I want you, kids, to have a good time. Be back no less than 11 p.m. sharp, or I'll know who I'm going to arrest next."

"Yes, Sir." I gave a mock salute.

Mr. Stacy turned on his police siren and went off to the scene of the crime. The grin I had fallen as I gazed back at the retreating car, my hand itch from wanting to shoot my web and follow him to the scene.

'_ Calling all available units..' _

But then I turned to Gwen and jumped a bit when her sapphire eyes were drilling my head.

"What?"

"Nothing, just… I didn't expect you to be so… controversial tonight."

Eyes widened, it dawned on me what I did on the car, "Oh shit, Gwen, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean, I mean, I sort of mean, but that was still no way for me to act–"

"Peter, it's fine." Gwen put a placating arm on my shoulder, "I've had a worse conversation with my dad, and I can see it was important to you."

She took the crook of my elbow into my arm and started moving toward the gym, following the flow of the rest of the students. "Yeah, you can say that I have a personal investment on the guy."

"Yeah, no duh. Usually, unless you're talking about science, you would kind of stutter on the spot."

"Oh, come on, Gwen."

"Hey, I'm just telling it as it is. I think you're cute when you do that.

'_ ...hostage situation…' _

We were by the entrance to the gym, the soft beat of music drumming mixed with excited laughter, but we both didn't get any closer. Too busy hearing what the other might say before our voices get drowned out.

"Then what about you, Gwen? Back then in the car, you, you seem to be defending Spider-Man."

She hummed in thought as Gwen considered her answer, "I suppose, I am. I'm all for being a superhero and doing good deeds. But, I also understand why Dad is so against him."

"Why is your Dad against him?"

"Wow, how to answer that." She laughed nervously. Any other day she might have pulled her hair if not for how she perfectly curled for this day. "I don't know if I can explain it well, but… try thinking guns. Between a gun on a random person and a gun in a cop's hand, which one are you reassured more?"

I wanted to immediately say "Cops" when it hit me what she's trying to get.

"See? Spider-Man is obviously not a regular human for being able to make webs and lift cars if my dad's sources are right. So in a way, he _is _the gun. But unlike firearms, we can't take it away, and we couldn't, like, make him a… I don't know... certified vigilante with the way he operates. We don't even know if he's trained or not with those abilities.

"But I do agree with how he tries to help people with those powers. I think it's admirable of him. But just because I support his actions doesn't mean I trust him. That takes time. Like they said, you can't build Rome in one day.

"But enough about our Friendly Neighborhood Hero, it's Homecoming Prom, so let's have fun."

_'...on 9th street...' _

The gym was almost unrecognizable from all the balloon arcs, colored lights, and other decors you expect in a prom. The blast of heat came in waves from the mass people already dancing their way through the night. Smell the sweat and the sweet punch in the air. Post Malone's _Better Now _was blasting through speakers alongside the cheer of the crowd and had my heart beating through its beat.

Gwen squealed, "I love this song!" Before I realized it, she had me pulled to the dancing floor, even though I'm a terrible dancer. But I'm a sucker anyway, I wouldn't have been able to say no to her. Especially if it keeps her smiling.

'_ ...requesting back-up…' _

So what does it say about me that she wasn't the first in my mind tonight? I had to force myself to keep on smiling; otherwise, it would fall and give her a bad impression. That the music we coincidentally both love only seemed to be background sound in my ear, instead the sound of the radio had gone in my head, over and over.

'_ God, Peter! This is one night with the girl of your dreams, you can do this.' _

The song shifted to a slow song, one of Lady Gaga's from that one movie she starred. We began dancing side by side, my hands nervously on her waist while she had hers around my neck. She was close, so close for me to appreciate the gleeful smile she had and twinkling blue eyes while locking with my own brown ones. There should be no reason for me not to be in cloud nine.

But maybe that's why she knew there was something on my mind, "What's wrong?"

I tried brushing her off as nothing, but Gwen raised an eyebrow, silently telling me I'm not fooling her.

"Just… thinking about your dad and being part of that response team."

"Yeah," she breathed out, "It's a bit intense, having a cop as your dad."

"How do you cope with it?" I suddenly felt curious, "Whenever your dad is out, doing his duty, how are you not worried sick with him risking his life on the field."

"That's a left-field question," chuckled Gwen, "But let's see… since being a Captain, he doesn't go out much on the field than necessary, but it never gets easier knowing he's out fighting the good fight. No, scratch that, I'm terrified every time I hear him going out. I honestly can't imagine a life without my dad, ever since my mom and he divorce... it's always been the two of us. But I guess... I coped by trusting he'll always do his best to come back home."

I was overtaken by a memory of that night. Uncle Ben laying on the floor. The smell of metal that was flooding the wooden floor. The contorted pain of the old man's face for every breath he took until his last. The whisper of my name as he held on to my hand like I was his lifeline as his own felt it was freezing up by the second.

And just as suddenly, I wasn't holding Uncle Ben.

I was holding Mr. Stacy.

"_ Peter…. Peter…. _Peter!"

I snapped out of my thoughts from Gwen's voice, I failed to notice Gwen shaking me. She grew overly concerned. I wondered what made her so until I saw myself in her eyes. My own pair were blown wide open like I was deer caught in a headlight, my face paler than usual, and my lips parted from breathing irregularly, something that Gwen must be hearing from how close she was.

"Peter, what's wrong?"

There were a thousand answers I could give her, but in the end, I made my decision. "I have to go."

"What?" She let go of her arms around me as I let go of hers. We were the only two kids who stopped dancing on the dance floor.

"I'm sorry," I took a step back, "You… you're _amazing, _Gwen, and you deserve better."

"Peter, you're not making any sense, what's going on? You can tell me."

Every step I took away from her became more painful, my feet taking me to the gym's entrance from the school, my eyes never leaving her crystal blue ones, "I wish I could stay. Tonight has been the best, but I… I can't. I swear I'll make it up to you. I'm so, so sorry."

Finally, putting the effort, I turned my back on her and ran. I ran and didn't look back. Not even as Harry called out to me. I kept running and running, changing, leaping, swinging, and swinging until I propped into a random roof.

"Okay, Peter, okay." I pulled out my phone and happily used my app to listen to the police's radio. "Let's see where the boys in blue have to say. Surely nothing big is happening."

I was wrong, I was terribly, terribly wrong.

I barely had the app calibrated before there was a flurry of frantic voices, requesting backups, bomb squad, and SWAT-

Wait.

They asked a _what squad?! _


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

My question had answered itself by the time I arrived at the scene of the crime. Helicopters and police cars surrounded the venue with red and blue lights. From the excessive flower decor and the picture of a nice couple with the words _ Congratulations Marisa Ann and Tom Conzaguez, _I'd say a wedding was crashed. Though why anyone would want to have a wedding in a moss-covered warehouse is beyond me.

Looking in from the edge of a building with the most vantage view. The radio didn't say further updates on the situation other than the fact there were officers inside the building. Thankfully, Mr. Stacy isn't one of them, and he acts as the leader, calling out the bomber with his megaphone, hoping for a negotiation.

Spotting a rooftop terrace, a quick leap was enough to reach it, and I had a perfect view of the venue through the gable glass roof. The guests were on every side, edging back to the walls like they wished they could pass through it and avoid the only fashion disaster in the room.

He was an overweight person, wearing gym pants and a hoodie over his checkered shirt. Even from a distance, a normal person could even tell the red nose he had from crying. But most notable of all was the death button in his right hand was gripping.

The bomber was giving a heated glare on the bride and groom that stood in the middle of the venue, a Latino couple. The former could have been a bombshell model at a vogue magazine, the latter… well… he looked... plain… just as overweight, and had one of those airheaded expressions like they wouldn't know if he had forgotten to put on a shoe or not before going outside.

I unlocked the latch of one of the glass panels of the roof, just in time to hear the bomber's outburst: "We could have been together!"

As I suspected; the climax of a deadly love triangle.

I crawled my way through the ceiling, putting myself within the dark corners.

"We're over, Marcus. We have been for the last three years! What part of 'over' do you not understand?!" Shrieked the… _ groom?! _Wait, the groom was the ex in the scenario?! Now there's a plot twist, I never heard.

"What does that bitch have that I don't?!"

I almost lost my_ handing _ (is that even an eligible word for the hand-version of footing?) from the shock, but managed to keep myself from doing an epic fall, continuing my slow, steady crawl even as the fight grew heated over (under?) me. I stopped just above the bomber, then using my web to make my way downward, closer to the bomber, and the death switch, in the hope I could nab it out of his hands so the boys in blues could apprehend him.

But my covert act was broken from the single gasp of a little ponytailed girl, looking up with an owed smile that you don't usually find during a bombing threat. The crowd followed her gaze, my heron-name became the word of the day as they broke into a murmur.

Which was bad for my cover since now Marcus is pointing his gun at me.

Why does life never go as planned?

"Hey, everybody!" I flipped from my web perch and landed on my feet. "Missed the invitation, but I came anyway. Marisa, Tom, beautiful wedding, by the way, congratulations."

"Err...thank you?"

"ENOUGH!" Marcus roared, "You. Bug. Put your hands where I can see them!"

"Oi, those are police lines!" I held my hand up regardless and took a step forward, "Shouldn't there be copyright for stuff like that, or at least barred for criminal usage?"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Marcus' tone became more and more whiny, even going so far as to stomp his foot. Which was not great when carrying a gun and a wireless bomb switch in each hand. "One more word out of you, and I'll shoot one of the guests here."

"Okay, okay, okay," I held my hand up in a waiting gesture while taking another larger step, unnoticed. My eyes never leave him. "That's fine, no talking, but can I just have one last teeny-tiny thing to say, if you don't mind?"

"**What?!**"

I let a bit of silence drag, letting the tension grow between us, so the bomber would only have his gaze lock onto my masked face. Made sure his thumb wasn't on the switch. Taking one subtle step to the next as I said one word, "Updog."

Marcus scrunched his nose, "What's updog?"

"Fine, thanks. What's up with you?"

I shot both my web, one on the detonator, the other on the gun, and pulled out of reach. Devoid of both weapons, the cop that was already on the scene made a quick wrap on the guy. Kicking his heels, forcing him on his knees, and putting his hands on his back. I've let the tension flow out of me as he recited the Miranda Rights.

One officer came up to me, a young Asian woman who had intense, sharp eyes but looking less hostile. "Thank you for the assist, Spider-Man, we'll take it from here." She put on her gloves, silently requesting the bomb switch and gun as evidence, and I gladly had her take it from me.

The tension left the air when it was clear they were safe. Some cheered, hugs and tears were shared, and to my shock, most clapped for my intervention. Crying out thank you. It made me a bit on the flustered side, and I wasn't sure they heard me when I tried to play off my part since I'm just the guy who practically made a bad joke to distract and pulled the weapon out of him. Didn't even need to flick a finger.

But what crossed largely in mind was the fact the incident ended sooner than I thought, and that maybe I can still make it in time back to Midtown and finish that dance with Gwen… if she's still there.

At that moment, I blamed my lack of focus when Marcus decided to make one last defiant act by kicking the officer who had him and pushing the woman who had his bomb switch. Caught off guard, she stumbled, the grip of two weapons fell from her hand. And the universe decided to give us a bad hand when the switch fell where the button would be.

Everything moved in slow motion as I shot my web at the last second, moved by desperation.

But I knew it was too late.

The building exploded from the inside out, Flash, fire, dust, and earthquake. My spidey-sense that always helps me get out of danger became a source of splitting headaches. One second it was a nice venue. The next it was rocks and debris, When I came to, everything was darker. My body felt like one big giant bruise. Like after having a double whammy by Flash, only worse. There was still the faint, nauseated ringing in my ears, but why are there still the screams of people echoing in my head?

I groaned. It felt like someone pulled my muscle in a thousand different directions and screaming for being an underpaid employee. I was halfway asking who turned up the heater when it occurred to me that the place was on fire. Piles of debris were piling on me, but I had enough legroom to crawl my way out.

I looked around and figured I was unlucky enough to be trapped in an enclosed space built from chunks of rocks, pieces of bricks, and metal beams like a chaotic rock tent. The gap that showed the flickering fire and the running guests who managed to get out.

I was still disoriented, and sluggishly made my way to the light, when I jumped after almost stepping over an unconscious person. "Hey, are you okay? Of course, you're not. What am I saying? Err, Sir, Sir, please, I need you to wake up-"

I turned him over and only to find the bleeding face of the groom, half his body crushed by a metal beam, and large shrapnel of glass went through his eyes.

I screamed.

I screamed.

And screamed like a wailing ghost. Horrified but couldn't look away at the lifeless pair of eyes that see nothing yet as if to gaze back at me, judging me.

I jumped back until my back hit jagged debris as I got further away. My legs lost strength and I went sliding down. The snot from my cries clot my nose and the bile clogged my throat. Making it harder and harder for me to breathe, so I pulled off my mask as if it was suffocating me. My limbs were shaking all the while, making it harder for me to move. But it didn't make things better. Instead, it felt like there's little air. When I did get a lungful of air between, it only choked me from the tainted smoke that was spreading.

And I couldn't seem to see anything but the ghostly eyes of the now corpse- Wait... is this a panic attack? Am I having a panic attack? Oh man, now I'm panicking from having a panic attack.

I managed to pull my eyes off him, and tried focusing on the pile of rocks barricading me. My rapid breathing doesn't seem to help as my lungs threatened to burst out. The faint ringing in my head began to ramp up way high as I seemed to hear every background noises around; the crackling woods, the high pitch yells, the hard thumps of running feet. Causing a massive headache for me and making it harder to hear myself think.

"Help! Help! Somebody! Anybody! Please, help me!"

I didn't know how long I cried out for help with nothing to show for. But I doubt anyone listened, drowned by the sound of sirens and screams from the other side. My body started curling up, rocking back and forth. I pressed my face to the ground as I cried with tears streaming down, not caring how pathetic I acted and looked. My spider-sense told me to move, to get out, but I couldn't find the will to do that. My stomach churning as bile threatened to slip out.

"... I don't know what to do… somebody… please help me...

"...hello…?"

I almost jumped from where I stood when the out of place voice was heard. My head whipped around, and for a moment, I thought I was hearing things. I latched on to the hope anyway and perked up my ear.

"...is...is someone... hic.. there...it's dark...pleas…"

The little spark I had become dreaded cold at the small, childish, vulnerable voice.

I pinpointed it immediately, and dread filled me when I found it came from a pile of rubble that towered high upon the source of the voice. I went for the bricks and blocks of cement I managed to dig out, but the metal beam stuck in between groaned and pieces started falling like a bad played Jenga until it didn't.

"Please, help! Hic...It's dark and hot. I'm scared. Mom, Dad, help me!"

I took out my surviving phone and turned the flashlight on, hoping it might reach her "Hey, hey, kid, can you hear me?"

"Who… who's there?"

"Friendly neighborhood… hic…. Spider-Man here, but you can call me Spidey," My cheer slipped out as easy as I slipped on my mask, "Boy, are we in for it. Are you all alright? I mean, are you injured or anything?"

The clear voice of the little girl sniffed, "No… I, I don't think so but I'm scared. Spi, Spidey, ca, can you help me?"

There's a lot I wanted to say. I'm scared too. Help is on the way. I don't know how to help. It's going to be alright. A part that seeks help and another that wants to offer it threw me into a dilemma. Until I had my gaze down and saw my reflection on the mirrored glass of the eye lenses from my mask, and what I saw was a wreck. Broken lip. Bruised cheek. Bleeding, snotting nose. Wet eyes striking with fear.

For some reason, Uncle Ben began to flash in my mind's eyes. Smiling that patient smile of his when I cried from the bullies that kept picking on me because I told them off and confessed that I wished I kept my mouth shut. Ben just patted my back and said, "_ I know doing the right thing is never easy, there's always a price in every choice you make. Because every time you stay silent for these things the more your soul is taken, again and again, until you become a person who doesn't care about people, whether from the sideline or hurting them yourself. You just gotta ask yourself, Pete, if that is what you want? Is that the kind of person you want to be? Can you take pride in being that person? _"

I remembered shaking my head and asking, "_ Then what should I do _?"

"_Be strong, Peter. For now, be strong. Just know when the goings get tough, I'll always be there for you. _"

There was no one here for me

But Spider-man can be here for her.

For her, he can be strong.

Bracing myself, I put the mask back on. "Yeah, yeah, I can help."

"Really?"

"Really, really. So, what's your name? I can't keep saying 'you' in my head or otherwise."

"It's… it's Cindy."

"Okay, Cindy, I'm going to start helping you, but to do that you're going to have to help, so we'll be helping each other, can you do that?"

A pause, then, "O, okay."

"Great, now Cindy I want you to check yourself for injuries. Any serious cuts you might have or pain that keeps showing? Can you move at all?"

"Uhm, just a few bruises here and there. I'm not bleeding or anything, it's getting hard to breath but I can still move around so I think I'm fine."

"Great, great, is there anyone with you?"

"Yeah, but I've been trying to shake her awake but she's still asleep."

My heart stopped for a second, thinking the woman might have risk her life for that little girl, "Okay, then Cindy, I want you to watch out for any lights breaking through the cracks. Watch for any gaps from your side!"

She was silent for a few heartbeat moments while I shone the flashlight through any gap that might have reached her until I heard, "I see it, there's a large gap just above me!"

"Awesome-sauce!" I cringed at my own words, but pressed forth anyway, "Now Cindy, left-field question, but do you play in the playground often?"

"Uuh, I guess so. Every kid does."

"Cool, cool, cool, then do you know the monkey bars or the jungle gym? Do you often play there?"

"Are you kidding? It's my favorite. I'm the best among my friends just so you know!"

"Then can you climb up toward the gap, Cindy? It'll be no different from climbing the jungle gym. I'm sure you can do it."

"I, I can't."

"Yes, you can, Cindy. You need to if you want to see your parents again. You want to see Mom and Dad, right? Can you be brave for them, Cindy? Just for this moment."

For a few seconds there, there was no response, and I was afraid she lost consciousness because of the smoke. But then I picked up the grunt and wheeze of her breath and finally managed to spot the growing shadow of her figure. I cheered her on, patiently waiting for her to get to the top. My limbs were still shaking, and my breathing was still erratic. But focusing on Cindy somehow managed to keep a reign on my pain. But then her feet slip, her grip loosened, and I shot a web before finally pulling her at the last second., holding her in my arms at last.

"That was great, you were great!" I complimented her, noticing how much she was holding the tears that were already breaking out from her red-rimmed eye, washing away her sooted face. I made a leap from one wall to another and escaped the burning building. I made a beeline to the paramedics and handed her to a reliable authority. I didn't take time to pause before swinging right back into the building, knowing there were more people still stuck, more people got hurt, and more people who needed help.

I used my super-senses to the max as I tried sensing, searching for any life, trying to find a hand to hold on to. I helped to dig out people, carrying people that were too hurt to move or unconscious from smoke poisoning, But at times I would spot men and women lying unmoving. My sense was enough to clue me in whether I was too late. _ 'Too late… always too late…' _and focused every second of every minute giving people the second chance they need.

Then through the flames and smoke, I spotted Mr. Stacy is among the first responders who went inside and is trying to help pull up a half-buried man. He tried as best as he could, but he wasn't fast enough to dodge the crumbling roof that started breaking down and falling toward his spot. I swung hard and beeline to him, catching the heavy debris that could have knocked him dead.

There was a part of me that really wanted to see the look on his face, getting saved by the same guy you had been trash-talking barely an hour ago. But there's no time for that childish ego. Grunting, I threw the roof away and locked eyes with crystal blue eyes that reminded me so much of Gwen's. Only his pair was more weary, hardened, and assessing all at the same time. He took one glance from my soot-covered, burned costumed before focusing back on the trapped guy.

"Think you can help me pull him out of here?"

Think? I do you one better. I _ know _ I can.

I stood next to the victim, and I prayed my spider-strength to not fail me, but then I gripped the metal beam, and I hissed from the scorching heat it conducted from the fire.

Errr, scratch what I said earlier. This might be a bit tougher than it looks.

'_ Come on, Peter, come on! _ ' Shaking my arm to loosen up a bit, I held it up with my whole arm, gritting my teeth to suck up the pain. ' _ Come on, Peter, come on! _ ' The searing heat was more than unpleasant, but I drowned out my pained grunt. ' _ Come on, Peter, COME ON! _' I lifted the beam as well as the pile of rocks and other beams to make space for Mr. Stacy to pull him away to relative safety. Once out, I dropped the ton of weight and helped usher them out of the building.

Before I knew it, he had been the last left alive that we salvaged from the building and lost the strength of my leg when it occurred in my head that there's nothing else more to do. I was barely aware that the paramedics had pulled me away and had me breathe their oxygen mask. I was a bit out of it, but I think I made a bit of commotion from having to forcibly pull up my mask.

Having oxygen filling my head instead of poison helps clear out my thoughts and actually took in the disaster happening around me. Firemen were still trying to tame the flames. People in uniforms were either treating or handing out blankets for them. I wasn't sure why they would do that when they had been saved out of a burning building until I noticed I was shivering myself.

An angry cry cut through the night's bustle. My head instinctively turned to the source of trouble and sighted the disheveled bride, looking close to murderous as she was held back by the police from clawing the hell out of the bomber. Her tears smudging her mascara into blank inkiness, which really complements her furious look, "You killed him! Tom's dead because of you! Are you happy, you murderer?!"

Marcus didn't look at all thrilled. In fact, he looked devastated, dead in the eyes as he gazed at nothing else but the destroyed building before being pushed to the back of the police car. For whatever reason, I was reminded of myself. Angry, bitter, and wanted to lash out at anyone. Only in his case, he found out the worst way possible how his actions didn't make things better for him. Leaving the culprit and the victim grieving, and a pile of dead bodies all around. All that tragedy could have been avoided had I-

A familiar face walked toward my side. Seeing the questions just brewing to be asked, I pulled off my oxygen mask. "Are you here to arrest me?" I winced at the harsh croak of my voice but immediately felt thankful that it helps to mask my voice.

Mr… no, Captain Stacy stood there, arm crossed that showed the rough line of his muscled arms, and one of the best poker-face etched on the hard-line on his face. The longer his blue eyes bore his gaze, the more I sweat under my mask. Man, how does he do that? I've seen it in crime shows but is that a superpower that seasoned cops have?

"I don't like you, and I don't like how you work or what you represent." Ouch, way to pull off the punches. "But far be it for me to cuff the man who managed to reunite a family, even I admit we couldn't have done it without you today."

"I couldn't save everyone, though."

"No, you didn't, it's…" the Captain exhaled roughly and even wiped his face in exhaustion. "Look, do you want to know why I don't trust you?"

"Err… it's not any of my business but... I guess?"

At first, he didn't say anything, just pointedly gaze at the lines of body bags being carried away and the group of grieving people that made my heart constrict from the sight.

"This job isn't for the faint of heart. Some days your best might not be enough to prevent tragedies, other times you might have an off day, and that's all it took to have your life taken. Spider-Man, I respect the effort you took to put yourself out there to help people, but if you keep doing what you're doing. You're going to face a situation out of your control, you're going to see people die, and you'll find out no matter how hard you try, you can't save everyone. And worse, you might find yourself dead in a ditch without anyone to help you.

"I'm a trained, seasoned officer and know how to deal with it… I'm still trying to deal with it. But I know what this life takes from me, and so do every officer here. They don't need to have convenient powers or a fancy suit for me to risk their lives when I asked them to. I don't… I can't put my trust in someone who I don't know who's willing to risk the same thing. To me, our badge is a symbol of our oath to protect this city, can you say the same for your mask?"

Every word Captain Stacy hit me stung. Before, it felt unfair for him to judge me in the car as if he's entitled to know my reason and treats me like I'm a loose cannon. But now? I can't refute him. Not when I had been close to giving up in that building. For the first time, it felt like my powers had felt useless against the disaster that happened because of chances.

But can I keep doing that? Over and over again? Putting myself out there when all odds are against you without succumbing to the dredging hopelessness? Can I guarantee to not fail when failure is not an option?

Captain Stacy, as if confirming his thoughts from my silence, nodded, and walked away with the last word.

When the paramedics told me I was in the clear, I got on my feet, ready to get back when a small tug on my suit made me look down.

"Spidey!"

I barely turned before a whizzing figure threw themselves at my leg, and I had to keep myself falling off my butt. I looked down and faced the missing-teeth smile from little Cindy. I crouched so I would meet eye-to-eye with her. As fast as a cobra strike, she engulfed me into her small tight hug, but the force almost threw me back before patting her in the back. "Thank you for saving me!"

The innocent sincerity she gave made my throat clogged up. Fresh tears began to burst as the warmth in my chest, and despite no one seeing behind my mask, I rested my head by the crook of her neck, hiding it all the same. It didn't make the loss, the disappointment, or the failure easier. But she reminded me of the small victories.

I saw a couple running toward us, and I didn't take a rocket scientist from the worried look on their faces that it was her parents. Cindy jumped from my arms to her mother as they shared quiet sobs of comfort of being in each other's arms. I couldn't look away, not if I wanted to burn the sight to my memory. To remind me what I was fighting for.

The man I presumed was her father grabbed a firm hold of my shoulder, "Thank you, for giving our daughter back," he said before pulling me into his arms, which...Woah, he's a really big guy. Kind of carried me off the ground from how skinny and gangly I was compared to him. Good, God, man, how much do you work out?

After he let go, I gave him a nod of acknowledgment and took to the skies of New York. One crisis is over but the night isn't over, and neither is Spider-man.

**. . . **

Gwen Stacy was not having a good day.

She was mad, no, furious at Peter. Here's this dorky who she (might) have a crush on since 10th grade and is a perfect gentleman who asked you out for the Prom only to bail out at the last minute. Gwen had thought the night was going to be magical and there had been a good vibe between them, she was sure of it.

Gwen knows Peter has issues though. Ever since his uncle, he was never the same. Always late for class. Looking either like a dead beat or bruised Dad after a terrible night shift for three days in a row. He got more shifty, slept in class a lot to get detention from it. But around her, he was still the same cute, dorky Peter.

He got issues, Gwen gets that. But it's one thing to deal with his problems and asking someone to help with your problems, it's another to be thrown off guard by his one-eighty and leave her dealing with the fallout of her emotion as he dumped her in the middle of _their _dance.

Gwen likes Peter. She really does. If not as a crush, then as a friend. But she's not going to roll over and said she's fine, thinking his issue is a good enough reason to hurt her like that.

But Monday comes, and she barely sees Peter for the rest of the day, only the occasional mop-brown hair within the sea of students crowding through the hallways. She didn't even see him in class. Gwen huffed and decided '_ Fine' _He can avoid her as much as he wants but not until she gives him a piece of her mind.

Gwen tried keeping her gaze to herself, and let her chance take her when it could. But it never occurred to her to find him on the bleachers across the football field. Alone, watching the Midtown's Team in their practice, which she knew better than most, he wouldn't have any interest. At all.

Curiosity overcame her and Gwen tried to slowly and silently walked to his side. Whatever she was expecting to find, it wasn't this. Him, looking sullenly to the distance. Dark baggy eyes that she almost couldn't believe it wasn't makeup. The side of his face was discolored as if he had been experiencing bad sunburn when the weather had been mostly off these couple of days. A healing yellow bruise on the side of his forehead.

Looking at him was like cold water was dumped over the anger and disappointment in her, replaced by concern. She had half a mind to walk away just to prove a point that she's not that _girl _where the guy would look like a kicked puppy, and all is forgiven.

But dammit, Peter makes a cute sad puppy look.

Letting her worries win her over, "You know," Gwen sighed and went sitting by his side, making him jump, "I had an angry rant ready at the tip of my tongue, but then I see you miserable, and I kind of had to ask, what's wrong?"

Peter didn't say anything, and I almost resigned that he's keeping to himself (again) until "I had a shitty weekend."

"I didn't know I was that bad of a dancer."

The way he whipped his head almost scared me that it was going to roll off, "What? No! Gwen, being with you was the only thing good about my nights."

He blushed at his admission, and I blushed from his compliment, and we ended up blushing together like a pair of tomatoes.

"Hmm, well it sure didn't seem that way after you ignored my calls and texts the last couple of days."

His cheeks grew redder, but for a much different reason, "Yeah, I'm sorry, for that, and for the Prom Night too. I just have…"

"-stuff to do." I finished, not surprised by the least for the same reason he kept using it to everyone. I just wish he didn't use it on me. "Yeah, you know what, it's fine. You don't need to worry about it." I got up and started walking away-

"Wait!"

-but then Peter came and blocked my path, and I was startled by how fast he got before me. His mouth opened and closed, I waited patiently until he found the words he needed to say.

"I've been, you know, lying. A lot. I don't want to do that. Especially not to you. I can't tell you everything but… but I'll try so… here goes." He inhaled deeply like he's bracing for the punch that would knock him out, "When Uncle Ben died I made a promise to myself…"

Gwen's eyes were blown wide, not expecting him mentioning his Uncle. If there's one thing Gwen wished she had had the chance to do, it would have been meeting Peter's uncle that he so obviously loved so much and took in as a role model.

"...that I would put my responsibility first. I hadn't known what he meant before he died, and I'm starting to understand that a bit more. But then I asked out this pretty, funny, nice, and great girl to the Prom, and I thought I could put a hold of that responsibility for one day so I can give her a good time."

Gwen didn't know he could blush even harder, but it was clear Peter was trying, with him avoiding her eyes, and yanking the back of his air as if every word he said needed to be pulled out like a hard tooth from his gum. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, but he pressed on anyway.

"Then, then, during that night, I couldn't choose this girl over my responsibility. And I realized I don't deserve her. Because she deserves to have someone who will put her first for whatever reason. Someone who knows you're one of the most stubborn, competitive women out there so he should think twice if arguing with her is a wise decision, Someone who knows you would become impossibly grumpy if you don't have chocolate while you're working. You deserve someone who only takes one look, and you know what an amazing girl she is-"

He didn't get to finish his words, not when his spidey-sense hadn't warned him when Gwen had stepped closer to give him a sweet kiss on the lips. Peter can't say he has a problem with that, seeing as it's not something he wanted to avoid.

At one point, Peter had his eyes closed as he got stuck in bliss. Only opening once her lips fell away from his and seeing her smiling that he loved seeing so much.

"Err, not that I mind, in fact, I don't mind it at all, but… not the reaction I expected when I-"

"Shut up," Gwen said, still with a smile, and gave him another kiss. "Thank you, for being honest with me."

There was a moment Peter's mind glazed in bliss before finding the first words formed in his head, "So… does this mean we're good?"

Gwen laughed, "We're good, Peter. See you tomorrow after school?"

"Yeah, yes, I'll see you. Same time, same place?"

"You know it." She waved goodbye and turned her back on him. Gwen had a lot in her mind, some of it was the doubts that still brew in her mind. Whether or not being with Peter was a good idea. Especially when he still has his secrets. But being a cop's daughter, Gwen knew better than most that life isn't one to be wasted wondering about what-ifs, and Gwen had always had a good intuition. She trusts her gut to give Peter Parker a chance.

**. . .**

"This is Peter Parker," I sighed, my black eye evident, bruises, and burned scar evident for the camera to see, "It's Day 35, and today… was not a good day. Whatever my younger self, thinking superpowers is enough to fix everything clearly is naive.

"I knew that being Spider-Man isn't fun and games. That I went out there to save people. To make sure no one has to suffer the same pain as me. But it never fully occurred to me that taking responsibility in protecting someone's life meant that failure meant death. I knew that in my head, but I thought as long as I have Spider Powers, it would take a matter of time before I can kick ass. Then I learned today that it wasn't enough."

I licked my lips and tasted the blood from the cut that's still healing.

"I learned that having power isn't enough to stop people dying or hurting or making mistakes. It should have been common sense, but I thought, I thought becoming a superhero would mean I get to do more. Change things more. But I think maybe there's more to saving people than just having power. Tonight, my abilities were useless, I was too scared to do anything until a little girl asked me for help. Tonight, I wouldn't have been able to save those people had I given up.

"I'm not stopping the superhero, but I guess I just want my resolve recorded. That being Spider-Man means never giving up. Not on myself or on others."

* * *

**AN: What I love most about Homecoming was the moment Peter was when all was hopeless with Peter being under the rubble, he learned to picked himself up with his own power without a fancy suit. How being Spider-man didn't come from the mask or the power, but from himself. Lifting metric tons of rubble will be reserved for a future plot device but the scene I made is definitely inspired from Homecoming. Because I want to create Peter's lowest moment in being Spider-Man and how he got back up, and I thought what's worse than failing to stop a bad guy? This is the result.**

**In Homecoming, Tony help defined Peter during his lowest. While in this chapter, he had Uncle Ben. This is when things started diverging. While Tony made him realized that Peter Parker is the one who makes Spider-man a hero. Uncle Ben, unwittingly made Petter used Spider-Man as armor against people and his own emotion. To hardened himself so he could become the hero the people needed. This will create lots of issues. Issues that would be addressed as future conflict that Tony, Gwen, and all his friends and family will help him go through.**


	7. Chapter 7

MJ and I laughed as we walked out from Fairhill High. My childhood friend was wildly exuberant as she skipped down the lane, pumping her fist high up all the while.

"I GOT THE PART!" She yelled for the world to hear.

"Slow down there, Red," I chuckled, "You only happened to get the main character role. Nothing special."

"I got the part!" Her feet made a ballerina twist, and I hoped she wouldn't break a leg before the rehearsal. "Peter, don't you see? This isn't just my big break. This is my origin story. The point when I set the first step to my path of stardom."

"As long as you don't puke on the stage-"

She promptly hit me with her purse, "That was one time, Peter, and I was seven!" I tried and failed to hold back my laughter as we went on into a chase, and kept me from her purse hitting while MJ was on my tail. "Come back and take your beating like a man, Peter Parker!"

Our laughter filled the barely empty street until we stopped from being out of breath. Though it barely broke a sweat for me, I was more out of breath from laughing.

"Sorry, I haven't said this yet, but congratulations on getting the part, MJ. You deserve it.

"Thanks, Peter… though I'm pretty sure you forget what the play it's about."

"No, no, no! I do, I do! It's a…" oh, come on brain, work with me here, "Is it _ Hamlet _?"

Green eyes shot me with a disappointed look, "Right author, wrong story. It's the _ Midsummer's Night Dream _. God, what do they teach kids these days?"

"Oh ha ha ha! First of all, you're only three months older than me. Second, they happened to teach us how to make our own solar panel and competing for making the fastest three-wheeler vehicle. Much more exciting than reading lines "

MJ clicked her tongue, "Reading lines, he says. I don't know why I'm friends with a science nerd. Can't even appreciate a renaissance comedy."

"Excuse you. I don't need Shakespeare to teach me what a quality comedy is."

"Cheesy puns and quips are not 'quality comedy,' Peter."

I gasped in mocking horror and grasped my chest like I've been struck, "How dare you, my quips are a national treasure."

She burst out hard enough for MJ snorted before shutting her mouth and glaring at the smug look on my face. I spotted the nearest bus stop and didn't expect her to keep on walking, "Hey, where are you going?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you? I have a sleepover tonight with a friend."

"Alone? At this time of night? Do you want me to-"

"No, no, it's fine. She's only about five blocks away. I think I can manage. Say 'Hi' for Aunt May for me!"

"I will!" I waved goodbye until she turned her back on me.

Tonight's bus was in time and had to cheer for my rarely timed good luck. I sat on the back, air pods ready on my ears. I glanced back to see if MJ was completely out of sight. I caught the whiff of her red hair, swishing back and forth, but also the odd group of men. Their silhouette looked like they were checking her out. While that itself wasn't out of the ordinary, Mary-Jane is objectively a beautiful girl. But it didn't really incite confidence in their character.

The bus closed and started moving.

MJ turned on a corner, disappearing out of sight.

The men nodded with one another before turning in the same corner.

I was already up, practically leaping to the driver's side, shocking him into hitting the brake. He probably thought I teleported or something.

"Stop the bus!"

"JESUS! Kid, you almost gave me a heart attack."

I didn't stop to say sorry, jumping out of the bus and running where MJ had gone. I slipped into the alley, feet carrying me up the wall as I changed midway. Not wanting to waste a second while reaching her.

"Let me go! Let me go! I'm serious, get the hell away from me!" I heard MJ shrieking.

I followed her voice from the rooftops and witnessed the men cornering her in an alleyway. The rest of them laughed and howled like the rabid animal that they were. I watched as I pulled down my mask, using it as a reminder not to act too rash or too fast. Planning to make sure MJ wouldn't get hurt in the crossfire. Groups like these are tricky. After all, they like to play hostage once they know they're up against me if I give a single opening to turn my back on them.

My fist tightened as I watched her coat was pulled off, revealing her pink top. MJ was a fierce girl though she never was one to lay down in a fight. She slapped one guy across that the resounding sound of skin-hit-skin made even winced. She then turned and kicked the blond one hard in the balls. He clutched his pee-pee with a satisfying whine, giving the perfect height for MJ to elbow him on the face.

One man in a knit cap pulled her hard enough until her head hit the wall, and she groaned in pain. He edged close to her space. A knife glimmered a shy away from her neck while his buddies laughed. "Let's see you try us now, I dare you."

I was suddenly reminded of that day I confronted the thug who killed my Uncle and the anger I felt like boiling inside me. I felt the same anger waiting to burst.

Thunder rumbled, rain fell, and I thought, '_ Screw it, time to kick their asses _.'

I webbed all four of the dudes on the back and pulled them away.

"Fellas, that's not how you ask a girl out!" I chastised them. Within the dim-lit alley, it was hard to pinpoint my location with my voice almost echoing.

It was only after I flipped from my crouch on the wall did I get their attention. Facing them upfront with my back on MJ. "Alright, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. While I'm not one to tolerate those who didn't drink their daily respect-women juice, I'm willing to skip force-feeding you a knuckle sandwich if you all walk away now."

"I'll give you a knuckle sandwich, you freak!" he didn't sound intimidating with his nasal-like voice and the dripping blood from his nose after MJ put a good hit on. I let him walk in my range before blinding him with my web then kicking him hard enough that it should knock the air out of him. The blond guy skidded through the pavement and didn't get back up.

The rest didn't need to be told before the three of them were charging right at me. I let the rage that had been simmering blow as I grabbed one man's wrist and flipped him 'till he hit the ground. I made another backflip that kicked away the two closing assailants. They were quick to get up and try again, but I caught the second punch and grabbed him by the lapel to flip him around, using his face as a shield-slash-punching bag for the knitted-cap-man that was coming at me.

Once he had enough, I threw him aside. The cap-man changed tactics and pulled out his knife again. Since this was the guy who threatened MJ, I decided to reserve something special for him.

"Oh, no! Is that a knife?!"

"You know that's right."

"You found my weakness, a small knife." I lifted both my hands in surrender. Seeing me quiver, the guy lunged with the knife, but I easily dodge it. "Please, please, anything but a knife!" He tried slicing me again and again. But I didn't even need my spidey-sense to dodge, duck, or parry. Dancing around the guy and making him look like a fool as I faux whined.

Finally having enough, I side-stepped past him and snagged a web on his back. Promptly giving him a personal merry-go-round experience before throwing him up on the wall. "Aaaw, what's wrong? Didn't the knife do much for you? After all, you seem to like shoving them on people's faces?"

I got closer to him. Cap-man tried to get up, face contorted in fright, but every wobbly step he made only made him slip. I grabbed the lapel of his jacket and shoved him close, so he would see the fear on his face reflected in my eyes. "Listen closely, you better be glad I'm only letting the police put you into custody because had you hurt her, I would have no problem putting you out of your misery, are we clear?"

The guy nodded with a tear-streaked face before I punched him hard enough to knock the lights out of him before falling face first to the wet ground in a splash. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly in and out, letting the adrenaline fizzled in my blood, the pounding drums ceasing from my ears, and the stinging pain pulling the muscle in me.

"Hey!"

I turned around. MJ was soaked from head to toe, and I worried she was getting cold. "Are you alright, ma'am? Wait, of course, you're not. Have you called the police? I should web this guy right about now so they won't bother any other people ever again."

"Spider-man."

"We should find a shelter. You're cold right now. I think there's a nearby construction site that we can find shelter in."

"Spider-man!"

"What?"

"You… err… should see your…" she waved vaguely at her back and the other hand pointing at me.

I followed her gaze, looking behind to find the small knife lodging near my shoulder, and then turned questioningly back at her. "Is there a problem, miss?

"You were stabbed!" MJ shrieked.

My eyes widened and whipped my head back, and now that it was pointed at me, indeed I was stabbed. Probably during my mad dash while threatening the cap-man. As if knowing it caught my attention, my brain finally clued me that I was stabbed by the oozing pain I felt.

"Well, that stings," I commented lightly, poking the knife on my back, "Actually, this really stings." Maroon red spread in contrast to my ruby red costume and the pain suddenly increased tenfold, "_ Aaaaaaaaargh _, that hurts. Oh my God, getting stabbed really hurts!"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock!" MJ was already on me like a frantic nurse, pulling me over to the empty building nearby that was under construction. I listened without a word because it's hard to get your head straight with all this pain and distracting you. She laid me by the unpainted wall and checked the wound.

"What do I do? What do I do? Oh God, this is so not how I imagine my night turns out."

I couldn't help the chuckle escape from me, "You're telling me." Usually I would be freaking out right about now, but it's a rule of thumb to have one person panicking in each group to do it for you.

"Anyway, I'm going to call an ambulance so—"

"No, no, no, no!" I gripped her hand before she even reached her bag. "Bad idea!"

"What?! You were stabbed. You need a hospital, idiot!"

"Hello, secret identity? Vigilante? I don't know whether calling the authority would either expose me or get me in jail, most likely both. Besides, it's only a flesh wound."

My Monty Python attempt was not appreciated, judging by the heated glare that ramped up in intensity.

"You. Were. Stabbed!" She repeated, slower, as if I was brain damaged instead of being stabbed. "You have no right to complain when you can't help yourself when needed." She went for her phone, fingers dialing the three-digit-numbers.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Thankfully, she did, but not without giving me that icy stare of hers. "I can treat myself just fine. Look, the bleeding isn't extensive, so it didn't cut any major arteries or anything. All I need to do is pull it out and stitch it, no problemo!"

"Uh-huh, and how exactly are you going to stitch your back?"

"Err…"

MJ threw her hand up, exasperated, "This is New York's finest hero?!"

"Excuse you. I'm a fantastic hero! I'm just... working out the kinks, that's all."

MJ gritted her teeth before something like resolve flashed in her eyes, "Okay, Spider-boy, here's how we're gonna do. You either let me stitch you up myself, or I'll call the ambulance and damn the consequences."

"...and what's stopping me from webbing away right now?"

"Are you telling me you're going to leave a poor girl, who's almost got killed, in her lonesome, at night, in the rain?"

Damn my bleeding heart, this girl got me good. "Fine, fine, but how are you going to stitch me anyway?"

"I have a sewing kit in my bag. I always have it in hand whenever I fix up costumes for the drama club."

"Ah, and do you know how to stitch up people with that?"

There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence that followed, "I'm sure they explain it in wikiHow."

Oh, Honey, there are so many things wrong with those words, I don't know where to start. I'm pretty sure even a fanfic writer would think twice before relying on first aid from freaking wikiHow.

**(AN: *Author starts to sweat*)**

"You know what, I'll tell you how. First, we need to sterilize the needle so if you have alcohol or a lighter, that would be nice—" MJ didn't need to be told twice before procuring a silver lighter from her bag. My mind went briefly blank as she did exactly as I said previously.

"Spider-man? Spider-man?!"

"Huh?"

"What do I do next?"

"Err, pulling out the knife would be nice."

"Oh, right, how do I…"

Not feeling okay making her feel uncomfortable, I gripped the handle of the knife, grit my teeth, and pulled it _oooouuuuuuuuuutttt_ _Jesus, Allah, Budha, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuu—_ that hurts!

"Are you okay? You're kind of bleeding again."

"Fine," I squeaked, "Fine, I'll put pressure on it. You just try to stitch my skin back like any other rip cloth."

MJ gulped as her face had gone paler, but nodded nonetheless. I felt the prick of the needle before it went through my skin. While it stung, it wasn't bad enough for me to squirm.

To feel the silence that descended on us, I cleared my throat and addressed what's on my mind, "_ Soooooo _... do you smoke?"

"What?"

"Ah, well, I didn't think a pretty girl like you would have a lighter unless you smoke or someone close to you does."

"Oh, err, yeah, a couple of times. Usually with friends though."

I thanked the mask for putting a cover of my face. Otherwise, my dubiousness might show. All the years I've known MJ, not once have I seen her smoke a single cigarette. And it's not like I have a problem with her doing it (Though it would be an obvious concern). But the fact she said she does it around friends… it makes me wonder why she was hiding it from me.

As if she had something to be ashamed of.

Never in my life did look at MJ made me see a stranger. We've always shared everything; our thoughts, dreams, likes, and dislikes. Spending time together with mutual hobbies and supporting the things we're passionate about the most. There were never any secrets between us.

Clearly I was wrong.

Trying to put a lighter air, I went on filling the silence, "You do know smoking is bad for you, right? Not excluding the potential tumor, giving you blackened teeth, early wrinkles, or go blind! That's a waste on you."

"Wow, first I got saved from getting killed by a costumed vigilante, now I just got a no-smoking lecture while stitching that same person. Could this day get any worse?"

"Hey, I am reasonably concerned!"

"Well, no one asked you to!"

"You don't need to for me to care!"

That stunned her silence and even her stitching pause before making her finishing touch and cutting the string off. "You're right, you're right, I'm sorry. I know I'm messed up, you don't need to remind me."

"I never said you were," I fully turned to face her and didn't expect the tears that started streaking down her cheeks. "Hey, hey, hey, don't cry. You smoke, it's natural to want to try new things. I tried eating Tide Pod once. Between the two of us, I'm pretty sure I'm the stupid one."

She barked out a laugh even as the tears kept flowing, but I saw it as a small win anyway.

But then her smile fell, the tears began anew to the point of wailing, and I found myself hugging my childhood friend as she sobbed on me. It was quite a shock since the last time I saw her broke down, she had a big fight with her dad and wouldn't go home for a week.

By the time she slightly calmed down, her mouth ran away with her as she began to tell me her story. The ones I know of her home life; an alcoholic father who she'll never know when he gets _ physically _abusive, and a kind mother who she resents for staying. As well as the ones I didn't know. Her clique group she loves but always looking for trouble like riding speeding cars or stealing simple cosmetics for a daring game, and while she didn't say anything outright; I'm pretty sure she smoked more than just a simple cigarette.

"They're not bad people, I swear! It's just… they think all those stuff are just a game to them. I feel like I shouldn't, _ couldn't _turn my back on them because I could only accept the good things about them and reject the bad things. That wouldn't be fair."

She cried for another moment, and I kept a good hold on her while contemplating what to do. At times like these that I feel like a kid in a costume. What kind of advice should I give to my best friend? Telling her to get better friends is easier said than done. Maybe some people can survive through loneliness, but MJ thrived among groups. Being alone would be hell for her. It doesn't help that she genuinely likes them and I trust her judgment, but you can't really say their actions are anything to be brushed over.

_ Uncle Ben, please bestow this unworthy nephew your infinite wisdom! _

"Err, okay, okay, have you calmed down?"

She sniffed a bit before nodding, "Yeah."

"Do you… want me to give you advice, or did you just want me to listen?"

She snorted, "...no, I'll skip on the advice but thanks for listening."

Thank goodness, I didn't have to because I seriously have no clue how to help her, nor do I want to give her flimsy words. "No problem, are you… going to be okay?"

"Maybe? Can't let a little setback drag me down, right? You should go. I'm sure there are more damsels and gents in distress who need you."

It's an apparent dismissal if I hadn't heard any, and the rain has already let up too, so there was no stopping us from going our separate ways, and she's right that there may be people who might need my help on the street. The logical thing is to continue my patrol.

But I can't help thinking that MJ needs help right now, and she's right in front of me.

_ What exactly can you do? You're not a therapist or a counselor. You're just a kid in a costume who can only make chemicals and throw punches. _

I made my decision.

MJ started walking away, and I walked right beside her. She turned, looking confused at me, "What are you doing?"

"Walking you home, obviously. You did point out that I could leave a traumatic girl, shivering alone at night."

"I'm already close to my friend's house. I don't need a bodyguard."

"Are you sure you still want to go out? A nice warm bath at your home might be more relaxing. Not to mention I doubt you're in the mood around people. Maybe close friends that you don't have to wear a mask, you'll just mentally and physically be tired. _ But hey _, I'm just a strange guy with a mask, what do I know?"

MJ halted her steps and gave me the stink eyes, "Says the person who just got stabbed. Shouldn't you be swinging home to lick your wounds or something?"

"All the more reason to keep my benefactor saved after she kindly stitched my wound up. I'm sure your friend would be thrilled to meet the 'Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man.' Think of all the endless questionings you'll be asked _ aaaaaaall niiiiiiiight looooooong _."

"Urgh, fine, Smartass, I'll go straight home, happy?"

"Ecstatic."

We went back to the previous bus stop and waited coldly side by side, using each other as heaters until the bus came. Her coat left on the side, acting more of a baggage than keeping her warm.

"I already said I'm going home. Why are you still here?"

Damn, this girl is stubborn. "Aaaw, I'm hurt. I thought you like my company."

"Hmm, do I like having a loudmouth superhero by my side… _ meh _, could be worse."

"Ouch, savage."

Our conversation lulled into silence, but it wasn't an awkward kind. We just let the rain, now lightened into a pitter-patter sound instead of the thundering one, filled the void of noise and gave a serene sort of atmosphere.

But then again, I was never one for silence, "So about before-"

"Didn't I say I'll skip the lecture?" Her voice broke no argument.

I raised my hands in surrender, "Hey, no lecture, no judgment for me. I'm just saying, don't you have at least one friend with who you can share this? If it troubles you enough to cry over, shouldn't you… Err… talk to someone? Preferably one who doesn't wear a mask?"

"Absolutely not!"

_ Urk _, I mean it's her call, but damn if it doesn't hurt. Is Peter Parker that much unreliable to her? I asked almost resignedly, "Why not?"

"He's the best thing that happened to me. I'm not going to lose him just because he found out I'm a screw-up!"

"_ HEY _! You're not a screw-up. You're a beautiful, talented girl who's good enough to get the main part in a theater club, good enough to sew up a wound and tell-off a half-assed superhero. I mean, sure, I don't usually get knifed. I actively tried to avoid it. But most girls kind of run away the moment they find an opening. They don't stay and help like you do, so be proud of who you are. "

MJ blushed and I felt I was on the right track.

"So you make mistakes, like anybody else in the world." _ At least your mistake didn't get anyone killed _, "If this best friend of yours is as great as you said, which I think you're exaggerating, I bet he wouldn't leave you for anything. The question you should ask instead is; if you're satisfied with the way you are now and what you're going to do about it."

MJ's lips parted, her eyes widened like she couldn't believe what she was hearing, and I didn't think it's possible for her to be so unsure of herself.

"Peter…"

"What was that?"

"My best friend, his name is Peter. If...if I tell him everything I am, will he be disappointed? Be honest, what do you think?"

"...I think he'll be more sorry that he never realized the struggle you're dealing with... and admire how brave you are for being honest."

MJ turned pensive, and the bus's arrival was right on time. She shouldered her bag and took the first step to it before pausing and looking right back at me, "Thank you, Spider-Man, for everything." The bus closed the door and took MJ out of sight. The rain conveniently stopped, and I figured this is an excellent time to continue patrolling.

**. . . **

The next day, MJ came to have breakfast alongside May and me, with a mouth full of her signature wheat pancake and the television blaring out the news that included updates of Spider-Man's activity.

MJ made a loud, strangely wistful sigh that it's impossible for me not to ask what she's thinking.

"Oh, I haven't told you? I was saved by Spider-man last night?"

"Saved?!" May said in alarm, "Mary-Jane, did you get in trouble last night? Are you hurt? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Missus Parker. It was only a slight mishap." She lied so easily, I had to bite my lip as not to contradict her, "Anyway, I knew he'd been the talk of the town, but seeing him first hand is something else."

"Well, I'm just glad that the young man kept you safe. We wouldn't know what to do without you."

"Thank you, May, but you should have seen him, he was… _ incredible… _"

I choked on my pancake and had a hard time breathing at the sight of her blushing and lovestruck eyes.

_ No… no, no, no, no, no, this can't be happening. Tell me this is a nightmare. _

"Oh, is little MJ having a crush with her knight-in-red-and-blue-spandex?" May teased, not realizing the horror those words are giving me.

MJ hid her face beneath her hands, but we both hadn't missed the flush that went all the way up to her ears. "Is it that obvious?"

..._ oh, fuck me sideways. _

I have this sudden urge to jump out of the window as a miserable attempt to run from reality, but I settled by jumping on my feet and hastily walked toward the exit.

"Peter, where are you going? You haven't finished your breakfast."

"I… err… have an early meeting with Dr. Connors, so I'll be _ leavingloveyoubyeAuntMay _!"

So quick I was to escape, I never noticed how the future shining star of Fairhill High looked back and stuck her tongue out.

**. . .**

"Good morning, Dr. Connors."

"Peter, this is a rare sight for you to be here so early.

"Well, I had an early night off so I managed to have a good night's sleep for once."

Dr. Connor laughed, "You know, most teenagers would rather play outside rather than getting stuck in a stuffy lab with an old man."

"Well, if I was an average teen, I think I would have made a lot more friends."

"Hear, hear!"

"So at what point of the research are we in now?"

Dr. Connor's smile became more bitter. He scrutinized the notes he had on hand, the incomplete formula on the whiteboard, and numerous testing tubes set aside specifically in the Failure Area. "Unfortunately, we're at the hardest part of the project, which is figuring out the equation that disappeared alongside your father. For 9 years, I've tried many times to recreate it, but—" he huffed a derisive laugh, "I guess I'll never be as good as Rick."

"Don't say that. Doctor Connor! My father's foundings shouldn't ever diminish your talent. Hey, for all we know, he could have just been lucky. We both know the greatest innovation can either come from brilliance or luck."

That managed to quirk his lips up, "Thank you for trying to cheer me up, Peter. Though I can't quite agree, nothing comes from only lamenting my own shortcomings. We'll just have to work twice as hard."

"What's the equation for anyway?"

Connor lit up and proceeded a lecture that he must have remembered at heart as he explained the theory behind the Decay Rate Algorithm; which is a peptide algorithm that determines the optimum sequence of amino acids in order to recreate cells without it growing too fast like cancer or too slow that the cell would die before regenerating the next sets. Through that calculation, it's ideally possible to regrow limbs using the genes from animals such as lizards. All those things rang familiar to me, prodding separate memories of my childhood that sounded insignificant until this moment.

"Wait, Dr. Connors, may I borrow your marker? I think I know the solution."

The good doctor was reasonably skeptical but offered it all the same. In my mind palace, I traced back weeks before, a childhood notebook on hand and random scribbles on them. Including a particular equation I was retracing on the whiteboard. Dr. Connors gawked like he couldn't believe what he was witnessing, even going so far as to wipe his glasses for a moment. His hand stretched out to the numbers in reverie. He might have caressed it if it didn't risk wiping the equation off.

"This, this is, this is extraordinary, Peter. Where did you learn this?"

My cheeks strained from the admiration my idol gave solely for me. It didn't take much for me to twist the truth a bit. "Oh, it sort of came to me, I suppose. I think it's only because you were a really great teacher. Really helps with putting the puzzle pieces."

"Then let's get to work."

And we did. Using an AI model trial and the imputed DNA information of both lizard and mouse, isolating the lizard's gene that enabled regeneration before inserting them to the host subject. In this case, Freddy the three-legged mouse. It took a few digital trials before the computer accepted the algorithm to create a stereotyped protein sample that helps regenerate limbs.

The Doctor started chuckling, softly before he began a full-blown laughter, hard enough that he couldn't keep himself balanced. I rushed to his side to keep him balanced before being pulled into a one-armed hug.

"Oh Peter! If this works, it will change everything we know of modern science."

My grin stretched to match his and was about to express my own jubilant. There are still many kinks and errors that we needed to adjust. But this is the first step in helping lots of people. And the first step is always the most important one.

We then spent hours creating the set of genes needed before finally injecting them into the host subject. It will take weeks before we get actual results. When it was almost time to clock out, Dr. Connors invited me over for dinner at his house. Being so insistent in his invite, I agreed and told Aunt May why I'd be home late.

The moment we opened the door, we were greeted with a barrelling 10-year-old almost knocking the good ol' doctor's feet while crying 'Dad!"

"Happy to see you too, Bill," he laughed while hugging back. The kid wrapped his arm around his dad's neck and half lifted himself, "Ooof, sorry kiddo, but this old man can't lift you with one arm so why don't you help your mom prepare dinner while I wash up?"

"Okay!"

"Honey, who's this?" Mrs. Connors asked from behind her son.

"Martha, this is Peter Parker. The intern I've been talking about. Peter, this is Martha, my wife, and son, Billy."

Martha smiled politely, while Billy waved with a toothy smile. Later that evening, the Connors offered me their homemade beef steak and gradually got to know their spirited son, who rambled on like there's no tomorrow about being a doctor like his dad. Mrs. Connors prodded me about my life as any curious housewife would have. The family of three as a whole looked almost picture-perfect, the kind you often see in 1950s Nuclear Family posters.

One other thing I learned about Dr. Connors is how much of a corny dad he is on Billy. I lost count of the _ n _ th Dad Jokes and bad puns that made even me cringe. Billy shared my sentiments as he made the signature whine, ' _ Urgh, Daaaaaad…' _ but the irritable fondness made me think this was a staple conversation in the Connors household.

At one point, while watching the families get into each other's nerves with beloved gazes, laughing side by side, all I could think about was the times I shared in my own table between May and Ben. It was only by hitching back my sniff did I realize I was caught in my own memories. It wasn't fast enough not to catch Dr. Connors' notice before he pushed Billy off the table to do his chore.

The older man looked at me like he knew I was thinking. Tilting himself on the chair to face me, "I'm sorry," he began, "I didn't think what this dinner could make you feel."

"No, no, there's no need for apologies, Dr. Connors…"

"Please, call me Curt out of office."

"Err, yes, Curt. You shouldn't apologize because of my issues. Besides, you have a lovely family. I'm glad you invited me over."

"Thank you, I- urgh." Dr. Connotr cut himself midway, slumping down while taking hold of his missing arm. I moved forward to brace himself, but he quickly held up his hand. "Fine!" he said, "Fine, I'm fine. It rarely ever happens these days, so it took me by surprise."

I nodded, but couldn't help glancing at the vacant space where his arm should be. It never occurred to me to ask what caused his missing limbs since I've known him all my life as the one-Doctor-with-one-arm.

"Go on," Curt gently said, "I know you want to ask. Don't worry, I'm used to it."

"Err, what happened Doctor… I mean, Curt?"

"It happened around two decades ago, not to toot my horn, but I was a pretty good surgeon back then. Pretty sure, would have made Stephen Strange a run for his money."

I pretended I know who that person is and nodded, "Really? I mean, I think I've read before that you were a surgeon but it never elaborates much."

"Yes. I enlisted in the U.S. Army to offer my medical service there. I wanted to help people and thought the best way was saving wounded soldiers on the battlefield. I lost count of how many people I saved and how many I lost, but it felt like making a change, you know? That thrill of giving everything you have and knowing you're capable of giving second chances to people."

At some point, Curt had worn a dazed gaze as if staring at a long past memory reenacting in his eyes' mind.

"But then everything blew up on my face, literally. My group triggered a landmine, then the next thing I knew, my hand had to be amputated before I was swiftly removed from active duty. I didn't just lose my arm then. I lost my friends, my career, everything that made me who I am," he took a shuddering breath in and said grimly. Connors looked down at his only arm, and I tried to imagine the horror of being one of the few left who survived but couldn't lift a scalpel for the rest of his life. The one thing he was so proud of about himself and dedicated his life to helping others.

"It was hard afterward. You can't imagine how simply losing a limb could change how you live your life or how society sees you. The stares they gave you for being physically different. Normal things we took for granted became twice as hard. The phantom pain that hits you and makes you vulnerable…. _ weak _… I was lucky enough to be alive, but sometimes… sometimes I wondered if I'm better off dead."

My eyes widened, bewildered at his hushed words, and so did Curt. It must have been a slip of the tongue if he was so quick to reassure me, "I'm better now, obviously. Your father actually helped me with that."

"He did?"

"Yes. I got another Ph.D., and we were college buddies then before both of us went to work for Oscorp. He was passionate as he was brilliant. Most of his ideas were borderline sci-fi, but years after we worked together, he never believed any of his ideas were impossible and that his failures were 'minor setbacks.'"

I grinned, "That's roughly how Uncle Ben described him too. He said he never knows when to give up. Aunt May likes to point out he's no different from his brother."

"Good to know that man had never changed then," Curt laughed, "Anyway, his magnum opus had been those spiders we've shown before. Only your father managed to do a cross-species hybridization of those spiders with genes from different types of genus with a stable result and lasting longevity."

"Wow, I knew those spiders were such a big deal, but I never was sure why."

"Not many do. Those spiders were also the only thing your father left in Oscorp. Almost all his research was wiped clean, and I've been tasked to recreate his success ever since."

"Do, do you know why he disappeared so suddenly?" Curt shook his head before I finished asking.

"I'm afraid we may never know the answer."

* * *

**AN: ****Oh wow, now I understand why people ship MJ/Peter so much. Even though this my own version of MJ writing them together is so much fun! I was almost, ALMOST, tempted to switch side when the only reason I'm making this fic is for a Peter/Gwen happy ending.**

**You're good, MJ. Keep being your awesome self girl.**

**Also, I always feel mainstream media get the jocks and cheerleaders to be this one-dimensional bully most of the time when the nerds or introverts are the MC. Honestly, I have experienced with them but they are less of a bully and more like they're not aware what they're doing is a problem or believe it's something minor since everyone is doing it. **

**Doing bad stuff doesn't equal being a bad person, especially when you're teens trying to make sense of yourself and your identity. I tried to convey that through MJ here without making her too OOC. Hope you guys like it.**


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